Stealing the Moon
by Wench of Diablos
Summary: AU retelling of Robin Hood. Quistis is a former soldier, charged with protecting the sheltered Princess Rinoa. When Rinoa is betrothed to a tyrant, they flee the Kingdom and meet a band of theives who hold the key to Quistis' past and Rinoa's future.
1. Chapter 1

**_Stealing the Moon_**

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

* * *

><p><em>The dream is always the same.<em>

_A nightmare blend of blazing buildings, beating drums, a blood red moon in the sky above. Screams of terror or agony, a sense of terrible, soul crushing loss. It's always the same._

_Sometimes the details are hazy. Sometimes, they're painfully clear, as if I'm watching a movie in my head. The steady thud of tribal drums and people dancing around a bonfire in celebration. A lunar eclipse. A prick of pain in the palm of my hand. Men on horseback brandishing swords. Chaos. People running in fear for their lives as everything begins to burn. Blood and pain and death everywhere I turn._

_I always wake with the scent of smoke in my nostrils and screams of panic in my ears. It's never real. It takes a while to shake it off, to convince myself there is no crisis, no fire, no bleeding moon in the sky. I get out of bed and check the windows, the door, the Princess sleeping peacefully in the next room._

_It's never real._

_In the beginning, I convinced myself this dream was born of a guilty conscience. I have killed more men than I can count and conquered nations for my King. Yet, I have no true loyalty to this Kingdom or His Majesty. This place is all I've ever known, but it is not my home._

_There is enough blood staining my hands that they will never come clean. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next._

_The dream does not inspire guilt, but terror and grief. As if I've lost something precious to me._

_But, I am a woman with nothing to lose._

* * *

><p>The day dawned cold, gray and wet, but the streets of Dollet were already teeming with people. All along the main road to the castle were vendor booths, peddling wares from all over the world, along with some of the local vendors who were always present at the daily market. Despite the wind and the rain, it seemed the entire kingdom had besieged the streets of the city and the air reverberated with the cries of the merchants, each proclaiming their wares the best to be had. Quistis, the attendant of the Princess of Dollet, ignored both the rain and the merchants as she made her way along the dirty cobblestone streets. At her side, a girl dressed in servant's rags stared at everything in unabashed awe.<p>

"So many vendors," the girl muttered as she gazed around.

"Of course there are. It is a _market_," Quistis reminded her. "And stop staring. You're supposed to be a kitchen wench, not a spectator."

"My apologies, _your grace_," the girl said in a mocking tone. "You forget, I've never been here before. This is so much fun!"

"Yes," Quistis said. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, calm down. Your father will have my head if someone recognizes you."

The girl sighed, as if extremely put upon by the world.

"I don't understand why I'm not allowed to leave the castle," the girl complained. "He expects me to live like some canary in a cage. Like I'm some precious little ornament too fragile to handle. I'm not delicate!"

"The world outside is dangerous," Quistis said. "He's only thinking of your safety."

"Please don't patronize me, Quistis. That man has no interest in me. To him, I'm just something he can trade away for more land," the girl said.

Quistis was surprised by the bitterness in the girl's voice. She had never heard her charge speak this way. If anything, she was an eternal optimist, and not one prone to thinking the worst of people. Quistis didn't understand the sudden lack of trust, nor the girl's tone.

"I'm sure you are more to him than that."

She favored Quistis with a weary and humorless smile. This, too, was unusual.

The girl was no kitchen wench, but the Princess Rinoa Heartilly Caraway, who had stolen from the castle dressed as a kitchen wench so that she could finally visit the market. Quistis had hated the idea, but Rinoa could be surprisingly persistent when she wanted to be. She had pleaded for weeks on end, until Quistis gave in. Now that they were outside, Quistis was beginning to regret going along with it. This was not a discussion she wanted to have out in the open where they might be overheard.

"He is, at this very moment, bartering me away in exchange for Winhill," Rinoa said. "I'm to marry Vinzer Deling, whether I want to or not."

Though she didn't say so, Quistis knew of a planned trade with Galbadia, though she hadn't been aware that Rinoa was the price to be paid for the Winhill Territory. She had never quite understood the reason behind King Caraway's alliance with Galbadia. If anything, Galbadia should have been Dollet's most troublesome adversary, being that Galbadia was just as hungry for world domination as Dollet was. Deling and Caraway were old friends, but it had always seemed to Quistis that the two should be enemies.

"The idea of marrying Deling makes me sick," Rinoa continued. "Can you imagine?"

"Maybe you were misinformed."

"No. That man told me himself," Rinoa said. "What am I going to do, Quistis? I can't marry him. He's disgusting. And old and I don't love him!"

"Calm down," Quistis ordered. "First of all, those in your position don't marry for love, they marry for power and wealth. Second, what choice do you have?"

"I don't know, but I can't marry him! I'd rather die."

"Keep your voice down," Quistis hissed. "If we get caught, the King might have a worse fate in store for you than marrying Deling."

Though Quistis empathized with Rinoa's plight, she knew how things at court worked. Daughters were bargaining chips, ornaments and tools to carry on the family name. Nothing more. She wondered, how had this fact escaped Rinoa all these years? True, the women at court pretended their lives were all about parties and beautiful dresses, but in reality, not one of them had married for love. In Dollet and Galbadia, only the poor married the person of their own choosing.

"Where's the cloth vendor?," Rinoa asked, sounding defeated. "The Princess will need a new dress to impress her future husband."

Quistis lead Rinoa to the best cloth vendor in the square, thinking that a move to Deling City might be the best thing for the Princess. She'd never been allowed to leave Dollet. Exposure to another city might do her some good, even if she was marrying a pig.

While Rinoa examined the many bolts fine velvet and brocade fabric, Quistis watched a group of soldiers standing outside the Tavern, which was only a few paces away. It made her nostalgic for the days she had been one of them.

It wasn't so long ago that she had been one of the King's Elite Knights, a small, select group of the best soldiers in the King's lists. Quistis had been the only woman, and arguably, the best among them. She'd fought without fear, without question, and Caraway had often called her his secret weapon. An assassin of the highest caliber, none had seen Quistis Trepe coming. She was quick, deadly and efficient. In and out in a matter of minutes, the assigned kills made without hesitation or remorse.

Unfortunately, the King had forced her out of the Knights after she was injured two years ago. The Dollet Army had conquered the Timber resistance and had set up camp on the outskirts of town. Despite heavy watch, they had been attacked by a heavily armed group of rebels in the night. Quistis and three others had been wounded. Two had been killed. Once she'd healed, the King had assigned her to guard the Princess. Sadly, today's antics were the worst danger the Princess had ever been in. The rest of her days were uneventful. 

Quistis sighed. She missed battles. She missed the camaraderie she'd shared with the other Knights. They had been her friends and her drinking mates. They had respected her as a fellow soldier, and treated her no differently than any other man in the battalion. While she now enjoyed all the benefits of a courtier, she was often treated as nothing more than an ornament. Just another pretty face in a lovely dress in a sea of pretty faces, swathed the finest fabric in Dollet.

One of the men standing before the Tavern glanced her way, recognized her and waved. She groaned as a pair of them headed toward her. They were Squall Leonhart and Zell Dincht, who were two of her closest of comrades and her oldest friends. At the moment, they were the last two people on earth she wanted to see.

"Keep your head down," she whispered to Rinoa. "They'll recognize you if you show your face."

Rinoa gave a curt nod and busied herself with the fabric, taking care to keep her face hidden behind the hood of her cloak.

"I can't get used to seeing you in a gown, Quistis," Zell said. "You're starting to look like a proper courtier. Kind of sucks that you can't join us at the tavern for a beer like the old days."

"One of many things I'm no longer permitted to do by order of His Royal Highness."

Squall flashed her a sad smile but said nothing. Squall was a man of few words, and even fewer facial expressions, but over the years, she'd learned to read the subtle signs. Quistis read the pity in his eyes and she hated it.

"You really hate this, don't you?" Zell said.

"Wouldn't you hate it if you were me?"

"Probably. I don't think a gown would look good on me," Zell said with a grin. "And I don't know how you girls walk around in those corset things all day. I tried to take one of those off a girl once. Not as easy as it looks!"

Quistis cuffed him on the arm and smiled, despite herself.

"Not easy to put on, either," Quistis complained. "How am I supposed to defend the Princess if I can barely breathe, let alone move comfortably?"

Zell gave her an appraising look.

"I don't even want to know where you're supposed to hide a weapon in that thing," he said

She rolled her eyes at him and glanced over at Rinoa, who was about to pay a ridiculous amount for a bolt of lovely crimson velvet. She excused herself and went to Rinoa's side.

"That's far too much," she told the vendor. "You're trying to scalp a girl who doesn't know any better."

"This is the finest velvet in the land. The dye alone would cost more than she is worth," the vendor snapped.

Rinoa's jaw dropped and her face turned red. Quistis saw that she was about to chastise the vendor for being imprudent, and Quistis gave her a hard, warning glance.

"The King would be displeased, sir, to know that you have not only insulted, but attempted to defraud the Princess' personal attendants," Quistis said coldly. "You will give the girl a fair price or you will never work this market again."

The vendor stared at her with a look of horror on his face. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

"Which shall it be, sir?"

"A…a…fair p-price, Madam. My apologies."

Quistis gave him a dismissive nod and returned her attention to Zell and Squall.

"I'd say life at court suits you fine," Squall said with a wry smile. "Your arrogance is disgusting."

"Perhaps, but also necessary. Just because the girl is ignorant does not mean he can take advantage."

"Who is she?" Squall asked.

"A kitchen wench the Princess has taken a liking to."

Squall's eyes went to Rinoa, who had returned to Quistis' side carrying a bundle, presumably containing a bolt of the crimson velvet. Rinoa kept her head bowed, for she knew them both. They were regulars at the King's lavish parties, if only for the plentiful food and booze, when they weren't off fighting some battle. She didn't know them well, but they knew her face well enough to recognize hers.

"You're a lucky girl," Squall said, "To have to have two of the finest ladies at court looking out for you."

"I am, sir," Rinoa said.

Before Quistis could stop him, he reached out, hooked his finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his. His eyes widened in surprise, and his shock might have been funny to Quistis, given that Squall was a man nearly immune to shock. However, in this case, it wasn't funny at all. It wasn't just the Princesses head the King would have if he found out, but Quistis' as well.

"Princess…" Squall said.

His face reddened and he took a step back, turning his face to the ground. Quistis grabbed him by the arm before he could bow out of respect for Rinoa's station.

"Quiet," Quistis ordered. "No one knows she's here."

Squall stared at Rinoa, uncomprehending. It seemed the Princess was equally riveted, unable to tear her gaze away from Squall's.

"Wait...what?" Zell cried.

"I haven't been allowed to leave the castle since I was eight," Rinoa said softly. "I just...needed to get out."

"So you stole away dressed like a servant?" Squall asked in disbelief, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Yes."

"I think Quistis has rubbed off on you," Zell said. "Sounds like something she'd do."

"No way," Quistis said. "I was against this."

"Aww, let the girl have a little fun, will you?" Zell chided. "This probably beats the hell out of sitting up in your room doing embroidery or whatever it is you girls do behind closed doors."

That was the truth. All the ladies of court gathered daily to embroider and sew things. Quistis had no talent or interest in either, and usually spent her time reading books borrowed from the King's library while the ladies gossiped and played at being domestic.

"Please don't tell anyone you saw me here," Rinoa said. "If _that man_finds out, he'll lock me in my room till I'm eighty."

"You're secret's safe with me," Squall promised.

"Yeah, me too," Zell chimed in.

"Will we see you at dinner?" Squall asked.

"Of course," Quistis said.

"We'll save you a spot at our table," Rinoa said, sounding so hopeful, her statement came out like a question.

She'd addressed both of the young men, but her eyes were still locked on Squall. Quistis was surprised by the invitation. Rinoa, though she knew all of the Knights, had never given any of them more attention than polite small talk, nor had she ever invited one of the to dine with her. Quistis supposed it was out of politeness, or perhaps because she was depending on them to keep her secret.

"We look forward to it," Squall said and bowed. "Till then, ladies."

* * *

><p>Later, Quistis and the Princess dressed for dinner in gowns of expensive fabric of the finest quality. Quistis had not grown accustomed to wearing the clothing of a courtier. She'd lived in her early youth as a servant, and later as a soldier. These clothes were far more ornate and beautiful than anything she'd ever worn in her life, and she felt as if they belonged to someone else. In them, she felt as if she were an overgrown child playing at being a Courtier, for a Courtier, she was not. The Court, for all its finery and grandeur was exceedingly dull. The conversations were all the same. Gossip, rumors, the latest trends. Quistis loathed the idea of spending time with those people, and she longed to be back on the battlefield, with her true friends.<p>

Regardless of her personal feelings, she was required to attend if the Princess did. The only thing she had to look forward to were her chats with her former comrades, though, of late, it only served to depress her further to hear their tales of bravery and plunder. She longed for her leathers and her armor, her blades and her whip.

_I am a warrior, not a dressing maid_, she thought angrily as she tied the Princess' raven hair up in ribbons to match her sky blue and silver brocade gown.

As frustrated as Quistis was, she could not take it out on the Princess. What Rinoa had said earlier held true. Rinoa was caged, trapped in her own home with no knowledge of what went on outside the castle walls. She barely had a clue that her Father was waging war one Kingdom at a time to enhance his own holdings. King Caraway saw no reason for Rinoa to know the affairs of state. He saw her as a foolish girl, more concerned with her embroidery and her gowns than with the Kingdom, and felt there was no reason to encourage anything else.

The truth was, Rinoa was an intelligent girl, capable of understanding the affairs of the Kingdom, but King Caraway saw to it that she stayed ignorant, for reasons unknown. Quistis thought it was to his own benefit to inform Rinoa of the goings-on in the Kingdom, but it was not her place to say so. As a soldier, Quistis had known about most of the King's plans, but in her new station, she was now left in the dark. At Court, it was not proper to speak to a lady about political affairs.

There was a knock at the door, and Quistis opened it to admit their visitor. She had expected to see one or more of the other ladies of the Court, but instead, King Caraway himself had chosen to pay them a visit.

Quistis gave him a shallow bow. "Your Highness."

"Well, well. Look at you," Caraway said, making no attempt to hide his lustful gaze. "What a pity you're not nobility. I know of several men of high station at Court in need of a woman such as yourself to give them healthy children. Unfortunately, they're not interested in someone with no holdings or titles."

Quistis gave him a cold stare.

"How fortunate for me. I have no interest in procreating for the sake of a man's pride."

"Such a saucy mouth on you. Had you not saved my life more than once, I'd have you beheaded for speaking so crudely."

"I am a former kitchen wench and soldier, sire. You can dress me up, give me a title, but I'm still nothing more than an orphaned refugee, so what else do you expect me to be but crude?" she asked.

"Touché," the King laughed. "I've always liked you for your honesty."

"To what do we owe the honor of your visit?" Rinoa asked formally.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I've come to inform you, your future husband will be at the dinner tonight, and has asked that you join him at his table for a drink after the feast."

Rinoa shot Quistis a look that was hard to read, but Quistis knew well enough what it meant. The King was, indeed, about to barter her away for rights to a kingdom that didn't belong to him.

"The deal is done, I assume?" Rinoa asked, sounding neither excited nor angry. Her tone was flat and disinterested.

"Don't concern yourself with the details. I've taken care of everything," the king boasted. "Vinzer is eager to start a family, Rinoa. He hopes that you will give him sons, and I've assured him you're healthy enough to bear him ten of them if that's what he wants."

Quistis watched Rinoa's face turn crimson at the mention of children. That the king was so casual about it, as if bearing children was the only thing a wife was good for, and it had infuriated the girl.

"The ladies at court say he's a womanizer and a brute."

"You'd be wise to ignore gossip, Rinoa. Not a one of them know what they're talking about."

"Do I get a say in this?" Rinoa asked.

"You should be grateful to be married to a King," Caraway said. "Vinzer Deling is powerful and wealthy and can give you whatever you desire. What more could you want?"

"As you wish, my King," Rinoa said flatly.

The king looked pleased with himself and he returned his attention to Quistis.

"As for you, darling," he said, "I have plans for you as well."

Quistis stared at him. She could only imagine what he might have in mind, and none of it good. Unless…

Unless he was planning to give her back her status as an Elite. What other use could she be to him? After all, though she had first thought that she would probably accompany Rinoa to her new home, it didn't make sense to send her. Quistis had been one of the best Elite in the Kingdom. Sending her off to a rival Kingdom was like giving the enemy the key to his castle. Quistis knew everything about his army, about how they worked, and the best ways to bring it down.

"You're sending me back into the fray, I hope."

"As much as I'd like that, the answer is no," Caraway said. "I have someone in mind for you, as well. A nephew of Deling's, Erich, I believe he's called. He has his own title, though a lowly one, and lands in Centra and doesn't mind a wife of non-noble descent, so long as she's easy on the eyes."

"Good for him," Quistis muttered.

"He likes the spirited ones," Caraway continued. "In particular, he enjoys breaking them."

Quistis shuddered and turned away. She would not be some stranger's wife. She would be no one's wife. She was a soldier.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Quistis said, "But if I can not fight, and I can not join Rinoa in Galbadia, then I'd much prefer to join the Convent of Hyne."

"You'll do as I say."

Quistis stared at him. Did this man know she had the ability to destroy him if she chose? He had created her, after all. He had trained her to kill without mercy. It would be so easy for her to assassinate him. The man was such a letch, it would be easy to pose as a concubine, slip into his bedchambers and slit his throat while he slept. .

"Yes, your Highness," she said. "As you wish."

"Good. It's settled then," Caraway said. "I'll introduce you after the meal."

Quistis gave her nod of assent, all the while, plotting ways to end Caraway.

As soon as the King was gone, Quistis returned to the task of Rinoa's hair without a word. She could tell by the Princess' face that she had expected Quistis to go to Galbadia with her. The prospect of being married off to a brute of a man with no one familiar to talk to in a strange land was surely terrifying.

And to Quistis, the idea of the same fate for herself was unthinkable.

* * *

><p>Squall and Zell, on Rinoa's invitation, joined the Princess and Quistis at their table. Squall would never get used to seeing Quistis dressed like a courtier, no matter how many times he saw her decked out in court finery. Though the look suited her, he'd long ago associated her with leathers and armor and bloodstains. She looked uncomfortable and unhappy as she picked at her meal and downed glass after glass of mead as though she was at the tavern and not the King's banquet.<p>

"Slow down, woman," Zell said to Quistis as she refilled her glass for the fourth or fifth time. "Leave some for the rest of us."

"The King has barrels of this stuff," Quistis said. "Have no fear. We won't run out."

"Would you like me to get you your own barrel?" Zell asked.

Quistis gave him a dark look and downed her glass in one swallow.

"You're funny," Quistis said. "But yes. It would help."

At Squall's side, the Princess eyed Quistis with a worried expression, but said nothing. She too, only picked at her food and seemed far less exuberant than she had earlier in the day. Squall had to wonder what had happened in the time between then and now, but he didn't ask.

"So what's happening with the Knights these days?" Quistis asked. "I'm never told anything anymore."

"Mostly, we've just been training a bunch of new recruits," Squall said. "I'm not sure why we need them, though. It's been pretty quiet."

"It's been boring Aside from the occasional uprising that needs suppressing and that wannabe Robin Hood character," Zell said, "there's nothing going on."

"You still haven't caught him?" Quistis asked, perking up. "It's been, what? Five years now?"

"Don't remind me," Zell said.

"The guy's smart," Squall said. "And elusive. Every time we think we've found his hideout, he's already moved on. It's like he's got some sixth sense that we're coming for him."

"How much has he stolen?"

"To date?" Squall asked. "At this point, there's no way to even calculate it, but I'd say it's above ten million Gil."

"How does a guy steal that much and get away with it?" Quistis chastised. "And why's he doing it?"

"Like I said, he's smart," Squall said. "He's either got an informant, which I hate to think about, or he's psychic."

"He steals the money and gives it away to the poor, right?" Rinoa asked.

"Most of it, yeah," Zell said. "The people really love this guy, too, so no one wants to give him up. Questioning the commoners is pointless because even if they had seen him with their own eyes, they suddenly know nothing."

"That's so brave," Rinoa said. "And generous."

"He's stealing from your father," Squall pointed out. "By extension, that means he's stealing from you."

"At least he doesn't keep it all for himself," Rinoa said. "There's something noble about helping the poor."

Squall could see that Rinoa had no clue about the world outside, so he thought it best not to argue. This thief wasn't to be praised for his acts of 'kindness,' if only because he sometimes killed for the money or treasures he took. He and his merry band of misfits were creating havoc along the roads, making it difficult for anyone trying to travel anywhere in the world, since there was no telling where he'd turn up next.

"I've asked _that man_to allow me to distribute Gil to the poor, but he won't," Rinoa said. "I see them from my window, down in the square, and I feel bad for them because I have so much and they have nothing. At the same time, I'm jealous."

"Jealous?" Squall asked.

"Jealous because they're free to do what they want," she said. "Their lives are hard. I understand that. But they can spend time at the tavern with their friends, celebrate events in a crowd, marry whom they choose, even pick up and move to Esthar if they want to. I have everything except for my free will. If I could, I'd trade all of this for the chance to be happy."

The Princess was so naive. She had no idea of the hardships or trials the common people faced every day. Food was sometimes scarce. Money was even more scarce. Times were hard for the poor of Dollet. The world outside was a far, far different place than the one the Princess imagined. Still, Squall couldn't take away her utopian view of the world outside. He didn't have the heart to tell her the truth.

Quistis refilled her glass as the dishes were cleared, downed it and refilled it again.

"Seriously, Quistis, maybe you should, I dunno, have some water," Zell suggested.

"Screw water," Quistis mumbled. "I have no intention of being sober tonight."

An attendant approached the table, bowed to Rinoa and said,

"The King requests that the Princess Rinoa and Lady Quistis join him at his table, if you please."

Squall saw the look of dread the two women exchanged and wondered if their ruse earlier in the day had been discovered. He hoped not. Quistis hadn't been joking when she said the King would have her head if he found out. She meant that quite literally, as King Caraway had beheaded people for far less. Squall had once heard a story about him having beheaded a cook simply because he hated the stew he'd been served.

Quistis finished off another glass of mead, got to her feet and followed the attendant without a word of parting. Rinoa, however, remained standing beside the table, uncertain and looking as though she might vomit.

"Are you all right?" Squall asked.

Rinoa shook her head and smoothed down her dress. Then her hand came up to clasp a pendant that hung around her neck. She twisted it and glanced down at Squall, who couldn't help but be concerned.

"I didn't mention your adventure to your father," he said.

"It's not that," Rinoa said. "Quistis and I are to be married off."

"To whom?"

"Quistis is betrothed to Erich Deling."

Squall let out a surprised laugh. That was the last thing he'd expected to hear, and it was a dangerous choice for his friend. No doubt, she'd either kill him within a year or at the very least, have him cowering in the basement while she ruled Centra. Erich Deling had a reputation for being abusive toward just about everyone, and he was just the sort of man Quistis would rather kill than tolerate.

"And you?"

"I'm to marry Vinzer."

"You're kidding," Squall said.

"I wish I was," Rinoa said mournfully.

"I'm sorry," was all Squall could manage to say.

He was saddened by this news. While he didn't know the Princess well, he had to admit, he was intrigued by the girl. After her invitation to join them at dinner, he'd felt some foolish spark of hope that she fancied him. Now he realized the truth. Even if she did, there wasn't a chance in hell she'd ever be with him. She wasn't free to choose. Suddenly, the things she'd said about commoners made more sense, as did Quistis' sudden desire to drown herself in mead.

"Whatever happens after tonight," Rinoa said, sounding strange, "I want you to know, I'm only doing it because I have to."

Her words implied her impending marriage, but Squall got the feeling she meant something else. There was no reason for her to explain that she was obligated to marry Deling. That was the way of the Royals. He knew and understood that.

"Rinoa!" Caraway called from his table, looking irritated.

"I'd better go," Rinoa said. "I've enjoyed dining with you, Squall."

Squall gave her a polite nod, and watched her walk away, feeling as though he'd just missed the biggest opportunity of his life.

* * *

><p>Rinoa had known Vinzer Deling was old, but she hadn't realized that he was twenty years older than her father. What had <em>that man<em>been thinking, setting her up with a man who was almost seventy? Her she was, barely eighteen, being married off to a man old enough to be her great grandfather? It was scandalous. And Erich Deling was a complete moron and a misogynist to boot. She could only imagine the murderous thoughts going through Quistis' head as she politely sat, drinking her twelfth glass of mead, pretending that Erich wasn't trying to fondle her under the table.

The whole ordeal had been disgusting, as far as Rinoa was concerned. She to marry an old man, and Quistis to marry a pervert, all for the sake of a bit more land and a trade agreement.

She wouldn't stand for this. She had to take her life into her own hands.

The moment the two women were alone, back in Rinoa's suite, Rinoa locked the door and turned toward Quistis with pleading eyes.

"We're friends, right?" she asked Quistis. "I mean, I know you're supposed to guard me and all, but we've become friends over the last two years, haven't we?"

Quistis nodded and gave the Princess a questioning look.

"If I was in danger, and I asked you to help me, would you?"

"Of course," Quistis said. "That's part of my job, isn't it?"

For someone who had drank half a barrel of mead all by herself, Quistis seemed remarkably sober. Rinoa was glad for that. For what Rinoa had planned, Quistis would need her wits about her.

"Good," Rinoa said. "Because I am in danger, and I need your help."

"I don't understand."

"This whole sham of a marriage, Quistis!" Rinoa said. "It's too dangerous for me to leave the castle, yet I'm to be shipped off to Galbadia in the morning to marry a man who will probably croak before we get to the alter? It makes no sense, unless _that man_doesn't intend for me to make it to Galbadia."

"What are you saying?" Quistis asked.

"I'm saying, I think the King plans to have Vinzer Deling and I killed on our way to Galbadia," Rinoa said. "I know it sounds crazy, but I'm certain that he wants possession of Galbadia, too. How easy would it be for him to off an old man and his bride then use it as an excuse to take the country? He might even blame it on this Robin Hood character the men were discussing at dinner. How convenient would that be? A robbery gone wrong?"

Rinoa had been suspicious of her father for months. She wasn't sure why, just that there was something distant and uncaring about him, when before he'd doted on her. That in itself wasn't enough to indict him, but she'd overheard a conversation between her father and one of his councilors in the library the week before about the best way to invade Deling City. It hadn't made sense to her at the time, being that Vinzer Deling and her father had long been allies. Add to that one of the discussions at dinner had been a hefty recruitment in a time when all the Dollet army had to worry about was disorganized uprisings and a modern day Robin Hood. Suddenly, all the pieces began to fit.

She explained all this to Quistis, who looked skeptical at first, and then worried.

"He actually mentioned an invasion of Deling City?" Quistis said. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I didn't want to believe it," she said. "But now I understand. I'm not just a bargaining chip, I'm collateral damage."

"You're his only heir to the throne," Quistis pointed out. "Why would he want to kill you?"

"I don't know," Rinoa admitted. "But you can't deny how strange it all is, can you? Why marry me off to someone he plans to overthrow, unless he doesn't care?"

"That's a good question," Quistis said, "but I don't see what we can do about it. It's not like you can just decide you're not going to Galbadia."

"I won't have to go," Rinoa said slowly, "if you kidnap me. Tonight."

* * *

><p>Author's Notes:<p>

I probably shouldn't be starting this, since I have two active fics I'm working on, but I loved the idea so much I couldn't help myself.

So, as you might have surmised from the story description, this is an AU retelling of Robin Hood...that's only half true. While there are elements of Robin Hood in this, I also caged bits from other FF story lines, most noteworthy being FF9 and it's initial kidnapping plot. In no way does this mean the story will mirror one or the other or even be close to the same thing. I'm just saying, it was inspired by bits of both. You'll see what I mean as the story goes on.

All the cities and towns in the game are now to be considered Kingdoms or property of Kingdoms, except for FH and Esthar. I've used the landscape and Garden/SeeD in a way I've never seen done anywhere before. This applies to some of the characters, too. Even if I haven't done any odd pairings here, they appear in somewhat unusual roles, particularly Seifer, Cid and Laguna.

I've had a lot of fun twisting the story and the characters, so I hope you enjoy. Leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

><p>Seifer Almasy sat on Dollet's city wall, out of sight of the night watch, staring down at the city below. The drizzle that had plagued the city all day had finally become a steady rain, soaking Seifer's hair and trench coat. He didn't mind the rain, though the slight chill in the air, he could have done without.<p>

Down below, nearly all the lights were out in the houses that lined the narrow cobblestone streets. This side of Dollet was home to the poorest of citizens and it showed in the construction and the overall shabbiness of the neighborhood. He'd chosen this spot in particular because of its unattractiveness and lack of resources devoted to its safety. Most of the city watch was concentrated on the nicer areas, where there was more to take than this neighborhood, where there was little to nothing of value worth stealing.

It also served as a reminder of what it was he was fighting for. People like Caraway and Vinzer Deling got rich while their citizens starved. This neighborhood was a testament to that.

A man in a long leather duster sat down beside him and lowered his cowboy hat over his eyes against the rain.

"Everything checks out," Irvine Kinneas said. "Princess Rinoa is to marry Vinzer Deling. They'll be leaving first thing tomorrow for Deling City."

"I told you the Tavern was the place to go," Seifer said. "But you had to doubt me."

"For the record, I don't like it."

"I'm taking Deling for everything he's got," Seifer said firmly. "And if he fights it, I'll take his life, too."

"You're playing with fire, Seifer. Go after someone else, just not Deling."

"Why go after Geezards when you can catch a Ruby Dragon?"

Irvine sighed and drummed his fingers against his thigh. Seifer grew irritated, knowing that his childhood friend wouldn't let it go so easily. Irvine was usually game for anything Seifer had planned and only objected when it was in Seifer's best interest to back down. Irvine had an uncanny ability to predict which plans were trouble and he was nearly always right. Usually, Seifer listened to him, but not this time. Taking Deling would be his crowning achievement.

"The past is the past, Seifer. There's no fixing it. Killing Deling won't change it, and you're going to get yourself killed in the process," Irvine said. "It's a lose-lose situation, my friend. Best to let this one go."

"That's not what this is about."

"No?" Irvine wondered. "Then what's the point?"

"Money."

"It won't buy back what we lost. This is about revenge and you know it."

Irvine was right about that, but Seifer refused to admit it. He and the rest of the world had cause to seek revenge against the likes of both Deling and Caraway. The two had taken, by force, everything that was good in this world. Many had lost their homes, some their families, their occupations and their fortunes, all for the sake of greed. They deserved a dose of revenge.

"It's about taking back what belongs to the people," Seifer said. "It's about unfair taxes and forcing people to live in poverty and filth so that the royals can sit at banquet every night and eat food that costs more per plate than most make in a month. It doesn't belong to them, and I'm taking it back."

Irvine sighed and shook his head, gazing out into the city, clearly frustrated by Seifer's refusal to back down.

"We've been doing this for five years, and where has it gotten us?" Irvine asked. "Deling and Caraway are richer and more powerful than ever. It was a noble plan, but it's failing. Hitting Deling won't do anything but piss him off, and if you kill him, all you're going to do is make it worse. That's a guarantee."

Irvine hesitated a moment, adjusted his hat again and looked at Seifer.

"Say you go through with this, and you kill Deling. What do you plan to do with the Princess? Kill her?"

"Hold her for ransom. A million Gil sounds like a fair price for the only heir to the Dollet Kingdom."

"That would be the dumbest thing you've ever suggested," Irvine said. "They'd kill you before you ever saw a single Gil of that money."

"Then what would you suggest I do with her?"

"Don't do it at all."

Seifer threw his hands up in frustration. There was no reasoning with Irvine when he was against something, and he was very, strongly against this.

"Why'd you decide to come to Dollet, anyway?" Irvine asked. "I thought it was too dangerous for us here."

"Just a feeling."

"Back to that, are we?"

The truth was, Seifer was looking for someone and had been for years. In every city, he imagined her face in every crowd, imagined her eyes lighting up with recognition and throwing her arms around him and telling him she'd been looking for him, too. He hadn't seen her since they were kids, but he knew in his heart she was out there somewhere. He could feel it.

"She's still alive," Seifer said. "Don't tell me she's not."

"I never said she wasn't."

"Then what are you saying?"

"Did I say anything?"

"She's not just some fantasy I've been holding onto," Seifer said defensively. "This isn't some stupid romantic dream I've been hanging on to all these years. You know how it was back then and what we were supposed to be. I'm not deluding myself."

"Did I say that?" Irvine asked, patient in spite of Seifer's irritation.

"You're not saying anything."

"Look, Seifer," Irvine said slowly. "I know what you two were to each other. Don't think I don't understand it, because I do, and if I were you, I'd feel the same. Problem is Garden is gone. SeeD is gone. Our whole way of life is_ gone. _And so is she. Maybe it's time to say goodbye, once and for all."

"No."

"Seifer, be reasonable."

"If you really understand, then you know that I can't."

Irvine reached over and gave Seifer a firm squeeze on the shoulder. In a sense, they were brothers, and Irvine never failed to remind him that they were in it together, no matter where the road took them.

"I know."

"Do you think I'm crazy for still looking?"

"Hell, I've always thought you were crazy," Irvine said, "but not because you're still looking for her. That, I admire."

Seifer didn't have to tell Irvine that he felt her here. She was the reason he was willing to risk being recognized. More than any other place he'd been, he sensed her presence here. She was here, somewhere. He knew it deep down in his soul. Still, he didn't quite trust his intuition, since it always proved wrong. He'd felt her in Timber, after the city fell to Caraway's army. He'd sensed her in Trabia, just days before the citizens were evacuated as Caraway's army marched on the villages there. Where before he had only gotten a hint of her state of mind, here he could sense in her a deep unease and dissatisfaction bordering on desperation.

How this could be was something that Seifer had never understood. There were times when he felt pain and knew that its origin was with her. It was always pain he felt the sharpest. Strangely, he'd never felt fear or panic. He'd never felt joy or happiness, either. Only pain, which in his darker moments, lead him to believe her life was one of suffering. He could only hope that this wasn't true. Instead, he chose to believe that because of their bond, pain was the sensation that came through the clearest. That didn't mean she felt nothing else.

"Let's forget this heist of yours," Irvine suggested. "Instead, we hang here for a few days, see what we can dig up."

Seifer relented with a distracted nod, his eyes searching the darkened windows of the neighborhood below, wondering if somewhere down there, the one he was looking for waited. 

* * *

><p>"You want me to what?" Quistis asked, shocked at what she'd just heard Rinoa say.<p>

"Kidnap me," Rinoa said. "Help me escape. Please, Quistis. You're my only hope."

Rinoa's plea tugged at her heart. In truth, since dinner, Quistis had been contemplating how easy it might be to steal from the castle unnoticed by the guards. Her own fate hung in the balance. There was no way she could ever be married to a man like Erich Deling. Though he was young and very handsome, he was also a monster. He would either break her, or she'd wind up killing him the first time he laid a forceful hand on her.

Quistis was confident in her own ability to survive outside the castle walls, but she had her doubts about Rinoa. The girl had no knowledge of weapons or how to defend herself, both of which she'd need once they'd left the safety of the city. Still, if Rinoa's suspicions proved true, then she'd be no better off going to Deling City than roughing it in the wild.

There was only one problem. They were both supposed to leave for their respective future husband's homes at daybreak. Something like this required some preparation. They couldn't simply walk out wearing the finery of court and without supplies or money.

"Please help me," Rinoa pleaded. "Please, Quistis. You're my only friend."

It only took Quistis a second to make up her mind.

"Okay, but we have to act fast," Quistis said. "Pack only what you need to survive."

"I'm one step ahead of you," Rinoa said.

She went to her closet and retrieved two canvas bags used by the Knights while on the road. Quistis already knew what was in them. First aid supplies, dried food rations, a light weight blanket, and an assortment of necessary survival supplies. She had used them on many occasions herself, but she was surprised that Rinoa knew about them.

"Where did you get those?" Quistis asked.

"I stole them," Rinoa said cheerily. "I also took the liberty of raiding the kitchen this morning when I borrowed Maggie's clothes for our trip to market. Hope you like apples and dried meat, because that was all I was able to get my hands on before Helena came back."

"You've been planning this?"

"Not planning for so much as preparing in case of emergency."

Rinoa was far more intelligent and reckless than Quistis had ever given her credit for. She was awed at the Princess' foresight. She'd taken care of food and survival, so now all they needed were disguises and money.

Rinoa went back to her closet and retrieved two bundles of clothing. One she kept for herself, the other she tossed at Quistis. Quistis unfolded the bundle and found there was a brownish gray cloak similar to the ones worn by the locals, and something that resembled a dairy maid's gown. She held it up, baffled, staring at it.

"Where did you get these?"

"Stolen," Rinoa repeated.

"Normally, theft is not an admirable trait, but...I have to say, job well done."

"Well, I'm not completely helpless," the princess said. "Just because that man thinks my only value lies in how much land he can get in trade doesn't mean I'm stupid."

Quistis, acting against her very nature, reached out and gave the girl a hug. There were no words that could cure the girl's bitterness, and for once, Quistis could sympathize. It wasn't often she understood the trials of the courtiers, nor could she feel much empathy for them, but now she did. She and Rinoa were in the same boat. If not for Rinoa's foresight, they may have both found themselves at the mercy of Caraway, and for that, Quistis was grateful.

"Now, what about money?" Quistis asked.

Rinoa produced a canvas pouch filled with gold and silver coins.

"Do I need to ask where you got all that?"

"Stolen from that man," Rinoa said, this time with pride. "For a man so greedy, he certainly doesn't keep a very good eye on his treasury. At least, not where I'm concerned."

"Lucky for us," Quistis said.

"We'll take my jewelry, too," Rinoa said. "We can sell or trade it if we need to."

Quistis silently agreed and began to undress, concerned that time was of the essence. The sooner they could escape the castle, the better. Their chances of escape were high while the banquet was still in full swing. Once the party broke up, they'd have to wait until most of the castle's residents were asleep, and then they risked encountering the night watch. Quistis supposed she'd be able to talk her way past any of the guards, being that they knew who she was, but it might raise questions about what she and an unidentified female companion were doing wandering about the castle so late at night. She didn't want to risk it if she didn't have to.

She pulled on her old leathers, from her days as a soldier, and then slipped the dairy maid's gown on over it, fastening the sash at the waist. She checked her appearance in the mirror and then slipped the straps of the canvas pack over her shoulders. Then, she unfastened the ribbons from her hair and twisted it up into a simple knot at the back of her head. On the other side of the room, Rinoa was dressed and busy stuffing handfuls of jewels and gold chains into her own bag.

"Your hair," Quistis reminded her. "It wouldn't be too convincing if we get caught and you're dressed like a beggar with your hair done up for a ball, now would it."

Quistis went to her charge and began to undo the girl's elaborate coif, thinking to herself that this may be the last time she'd ever have to bother with the task of readying the Princess for banquet or any other sort of festivities. It made her a little sad, but it was also a liberating thought. No more was she a palace servant, nor would she be any man's.

But, once they'd escaped, what would they do? Where would they go? She wondered if the Princess had a plan beyond getting past the castle walls, and doubted that she did. Rinoa knew nothing of the world, other than what she'd been told. She'd never seen other lands or experienced other cultures, so she most certainly had no idea what to do with her freedom.

Well, where would Quistis go?

Esthar.

Yes. To Esthar. There was no monarchy in Esthar, and women were not treated as tools for a man's gain. Esthar would provide the freedom Rinoa had spoken of at dinner. In Esthar, they could start over. They could truly be free.

* * *

><p>Squall Leonhart leaned against a post inside the castle stable, absently stroking the mane of his black mare, Griever. She was a beautiful, powerful creature, and she'd taken him into battle many times, without fear or hesitation. She chuffed and stamped her feet at him now, her shining black eyes asking why she was penned up and not riding. Squall had never had a horse so eager to run as Griever.<p>

Strange that she now reminded him of the Princess. He couldn't get her face as she told him of her impending marriage to Vinzer Deling out of her head. He'd seen the grim resignation in her expression, but he'd heard something else in her voice. What that something was, he wasn't able to pin down, but it bothered him. While it was the way of the royals to trade their daughters like cattle, Squall had never much considered how it might affect the women involved.

What hell it must be to know you're being sold to the highest bidder. That was how he figured it, anyway. How could these people in good conscience essentially sell their own daughters for monetary gain? It seemed a brutal and shameful practice.

But then, why did it matter to him? Why should he even care? Until today, the Princess had been no one to him. She'd just been a name and a face and a pretty little figurehead and nothing more. He couldn't recall her saying more than two words to him until today. He'd meant nothing to her, and he should have felt the same.

Maybe it was the way she'd looked at him before she'd left the table to join her father and her future husband. As if she truly regretted not knowing him before. As if leaving his side caused her pain.

"I should have asked her to dance," Squall told Griever. "If I had any guts at all, I would have."

Griever snorted and nuzzled Squall's shoulder.

"Are you calling me a coward?" he asked.

The horse snorted again and flicked her tail, her hooves clicking against the floor.

"And what would that have changed?" Squall asked. "Nothing, that's what."

That was the truth. Though Squall deeply wished Rinoa had chosen to spend her last night in Dollet in Squall's arms and in his bed, but he knew it would never have happened. He was too shy with women to act on his desires, and though she was desperate, she was too much of a lady to allow it to happen. Either way, she would still leave Dollet to marry Deling in the morning, and even so much as a dance would have pushed Squall over the edge.

A sound outside alerted him that he was no longer alone and he righted himself, giving Griever a pat on the neck before he made his way to the door to investigate.

Outside, he saw Zell toppled over, drunk, and in the company of a kitchen wench. The girl offered him her hand, laughing heartily at Zell's predicament.

"That's what you get for trying to get in my knickers," the girl teased.

"Everyone gets in your kickers," Zell teased back. "It's just a matter of time."

The girl giggled again and hauled Zell back to his feet. Squall shook his head at the scene and attempted to leave before Zell could try and engage him in a drunken conversation about the lack of hot dogs in the company dining hall.

"Yo, Squall," Zell said. "I didn't know you'd already claimed the stable. You should have told me. Who do you have in there?"

"No one," Squall said. "It's all yours."

"Oh, cool. Hey, Heidi's got a friend," Zell said. "We could go get her-"

"No," Squall said. "I'm actually on my way to make the rounds before I turn in."

"You're no fun. All work, no play."

Heidi giggled again and draped an arm around Zell's shoulders. She planted several kisses on Zell's neck, and his eyes widened. With one sweep, he picked the girl up and threw her over his shoulder.

"I can't take you anywhere," he complained.

"Are you going to punish me?" Heidi giggled.

Squall turned and walked away before he could hear Zell's response. While Zell's antics with the ladies were amusing, they were also mildly nauseating at times. Tonight, especially, it seemed Squall's tolerance for it was at an all time low.

He could hear the girl still giggling as he headed toward the service quarters, where the maids and servants of the castle resided. Usually, when the weather was good, some of them would sit on the steps and share a pitcher of mead or two, but tonight, the quarter was deserted thanks to the rain and the chilly air.

Squall wasn't responsible for rounds tonight, but something compelled him to walk the grounds, if only to clear his head. He had to get the princess off his mind somehow, or else he'd lie in his bed thinking about her half the night. He knew that much. It was best to wear himself out before he turned in for the night.

He walked past the chicken coop, where legend had it, Quistis as a ten-year-old kitchen wench had killed two rebel soldiers with just a paring knife during an attack on the castle, and thus gained Caraway's attention and her ticket into the Elite. Squall knew for a fact that the story was more truth than rumor, as he'd seen it with his own eyes. Even back then, Quistis had been worth more than ten common soldiers for her guts alone.

Quistis. What in the world would she do as a married woman? Married to a man like Erich Deling, no less. Caraway had to be out of his mind in making that choice, and Squall had to wonder what Caraway had gotten out of the deal. It wasn't as if Erich Deling had much to offer. Everyone knew he'd pissed away his fortune and barely had land enough left to hold onto his title. No doubt, within six months, either Quistis or Deling would be dead. Squall's money was on hearing news of Deling's unfortunate death sometime in the near future.

It was a shame Caraway wouldn't allow Quistis back into the Elite. It was a waste to marry her off rather than benefit from her talent. But Squall knew Caraway feared Quistis. He feared her strength and influence over the Elite, was well as her skill and cold calculation. Caraway knew very well what Quistis was capable of, and Squall guessed what he feared most was that Quistis might someday be the one to end him. What better way to dispose of her first than to marry her off to an abusive drunkard who lived in a far off land where she would no longer be a threat?

When Squall reached the eastern gate, he stopped for a moment to converse with one of the night watch and then continued on. On his right, near the armory, he thought he saw something move in the shadows. He stopped and searched the darkness for anything amiss but saw nothing. After a moment, he began walking again and heard the soft crunch of gravel behind him. As he turned, he saw two figures near the castle wall, crouching beside a cart loaded with barrels. He was on the move instantly, and was surprised when the two figures stayed where they were.

He drew his gunblade as he approached, calling out softly for them to stay put.

"It's me, Squall," Quistis hissed back. "Keep your voice down."

"What the hell are you up to," Squall asked, though he suddenly suspected he knew. He hadn't seen the face of the woman beside Quistis, but he already knew who she was.

"Taking a walk."

"In the rain?"

"It's refreshing."

"Liar. What are you doing?"

Quistis heaved a sigh and looked Squall in the eye. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing it.

"I'm kidnapping the Princess," she admitted. "So you can choose to do one of two things right now. Either raise the alarm and inform the king that I've stolen away with his daughter, or pretend you didn't see us here and give us a head start. As your friend, I'd appreciate the latter. If not, I understand that, too."

Squall didn't bother to ask why. He already knew.

"Take me with you," he said, surprising himself. "If you're kidnapping the princess, then take me with you."

* * *

><p>A great big thanks to Toriga-Okami, Pod Sara, Lecritic, Lovehappyendings, nikpt-o, and Mary-Alice for the reviews! I was't sure what kind of response to expect for this one, and you guys have given me a reason to continue. I should be able to update fairly often now that I'm not traveling all the time.<p>

Hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

><p>Squall's reaction to Quistis' honesty was not quite what Rinoa had expected. The moment she'd seen him, blade drawn, she was sure that they'd blown their only chance to escape, yet here he was, asking to come with them. It defied logic. Squall Leonhart, as far as Rinoa knew, was the very definition of the King's man. He was rumored to be loyal to the kingdom and its king, almost to a fault. If there was anyone in the King's army who Caraway trusted, it was Squall Leonhart. To suggest he go with them betrayed everything Rinoa thought she knew about the man.<p>

"Why?" was the only thing Rinoa could manage to say.

Squall faltered. His lips parted and he looked at the ground but no words came out. He seemed at a loss as to his own reasons, as though he'd spoken without thinking and now couldn't come up with a single reason for saying it in the first place.

Was it loyalty to Quistis? As far as Rinoa knew, they'd been friends while in the service together. Was it possible he was more loyal to her than to the kingdom? Was it something more?

Did Squall love Quistis?

That would explain his behavior, but Rinoa felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought. Then she wondered why it would matter. She barely knew Squall, and if there was some romantic undercurrent to Quistis and Squall's relationship, then so be it.

"I don't know," he finally admitted.

"You want to help us?" Rinoa asked. "Is that it?"

He nodded, looking ashamed of himself. Rinoa thought he looked like a little boy who'd just been scolded, and she found his embarrassment endearing.

Quistis stepped forward and placed both her hands on Squall's arms, looking him in the eye. Her face was serious but grateful in the dim light.

"You've been a good friend to me, Squall," Quistis said. "Thank you."

"But?"

"We can't risk attracting too much attention," Quistis said. "I hope you understand what I mean."

Squall nodded slowly. He took a step back and Quistis dropped her hands, her eyes still on his.

"You know if I stay, I'm the one Caraway will send after you," he said.

"I know."

Rinoa hadn't thought about what would happen when her father found out she was gone. Of course he would send Squall and the Elite. That would be his only means of recovering her, and recovering her would be his highest priority. Rinoa stared at Squall, wondering if she was now staring at the face of her enemy. She couldn't tell by his expression, but his eyes were pained as they lingered on Quistis.

"Do what you must, Squall," Quistis said. "I understand."

Squall closed his eyes and gave Quistis the slightest of nods. After an obvious hesitation, he turned to Rinoa and favored her with a formal and respectful bow. Force of habit made her extend her hand, though she blushed as his hand caught hers without even the slightest of hesitation. He pressed a lingering kiss against her knuckles and a violent shiver coursed through her. Even in the darkness, she could discern the blue of his eyes, though not his expression.

"Princess," he said. "I wish you the best of luck."

"And I you," Rinoa murmured.

"Go, before the watch comes back," Squall said, backing away. "I can't protect you if they do."

"Till we meet again, Squall," Quistis said. "Whether it be as friends or enemies, I look forward to it."

"We'll never meet as enemies," Squall promised. "No go."

Quistis nodded and took Rinoa by the arm, leading her toward the east gate. Rinoa's fingers still burned with the touch of Squall's lips, and she cast one remorseful glance back at the handsome soldier. His eyes were on her as they fled, and Rinoa's heart gave an involuntary squeeze in her chest. Impulsively, she pressed her hand to her lips and then lifted it away, half blowing a kiss, half giving a wave of thanks.

She felt like crying as Quistis pulled her out of his sight, though she didn't say a word nor make any other sound to betray her feelings.

What exactly were these feelings? She barely knew the young Knight, but she felt a keen sense of loss knowing that this might be the last time she saw him. Silently, she grieved for what might have been, had her circumstances been different. Why hadn't she been born a common girl, or at the very least, the daughter of a Lord? At least then she might have had a shot at finding out what this feeling was and having the option to be with the man of her choice. Nor would she be running off in the dead of the night into an unknown fate to escape a worse one. She wanted to cry for every lost moment, for every last bit of joy her father had stolen from her life.

Around her, the dark city streets had taken on an ominous look, far removed from the festive feel of the market earlier in the day. The rain began to fall in sheets, soaking through her cloak and wetting her face. Quistis moved quickly through these streets with Rinoa in tow, cutting down alleyways and side streets through a slowly declining neighborhood, until it appeared they'd arrived in the poorest section of the city. Here the houses were little more than shacks made of tin and plywood, and Rinoa noticed some of them had windows with no glass in the panes. She felt a sharp pang of sympathy for these people, and began to feel guilty knowing that she'd never wanted for anything material, while these people had never had anything at all.

Damn her father. If Rinoa were to ever become Queen, which was unlikely now, she would do everything in her power to fix this. She made a silent promise to the people of her Kingdom: I will fix this.

* * *

><p>Seifer sat on a bale of straw in an abandoned barn, ten miles outside of Dollet, trying to think of ways to convince Irvine to go through with his planned heist on Vinzer Deling's morning caravan. Hell, even if Deling had nothing to steal, killing the man would be doing the world a favor. Deling was a blight on society, and his death would not be mourned by anyone. Of that, Seifer was certain.<p>

Irvine had implied earlier that it was all about revenge. Though Seifer had denied it, Irvine had been a little bit right. Seifer did want retribution for the home and family he'd lost in Deling and Caraway's joint raid on his home island of Balamb. He wanted payback for the suffering and death he'd witnessed as the invading army had burnt Garden to the ground, killing and injuring many in the process. He'd been just a boy then, but he'd never forgotten even a moment of that night. Even now, his dreams were haunted by the memories of that night. Yes, he wanted revenge. Without a doubt, someday, he'd even the score, and if he lost his life in the process, it would be a small price to pay if it meant that tyrants like Caraway and Deling no longer had the world in chains.

"Stop brooding and go to sleep," Irvine muttered from the other side of the barn. "I can hear you thinking all the way over here."

Seifer chose not to respond to that, closing his eyes as he tried to picture what _she_ might look like now. In his mind, she was still a girl of seven, though he imagined she'd grown tall and beautiful, with striking blue eyes that would cut right through the most toughened of men. That's what he remembered most about her, those eyes. Blue, like the Balamb sky.

From outside, came a woman's voice, so soft, Seifer thought he'd imagined it.

_"Please, can we just stop and rest for a while? I'm so tired."_

_"We haven't put enough distance between us and the city yet," _a second voice said. _"I'm sorry, but we have to keep going. Dawn's only a few hours off and we need to get as far away as we can or else this whole thing will have been in vain."_

Seifer sat up, listening closely now. Something about the second woman's voice triggered something in him. He wasn't sure what it was, but judging from her words, these two were up to no good. Whether it was his brand of no good or just a pair of teenaged runaways, remained to be seen.

_"Please,"_ the first woman said_. "I really can't keep going like this. I just need a moment to sit and catch my breath."_

_"This was a terrible idea,"_ the second woman said, sounding exasperated. _"I don't know what I was thinking."_

_"You prefer the alternative?"_

There was a slight hesitation before the second woman answered.

_"No. Of course not,"_ she said. _"I'm sorry. I just want to be as far away as we can be when they discover we're gone."_

_"I do too, but dragging me through the forest like this doesn't help,"_ the first said. _"We should have stolen a couple of horses. That would have made this so much easier."_

_"Yes, easier for them to track, you mean."_

Seifer got to his feet and peered out between a gap in the wooden planks that made up the walls of the barn. In the darkness, he saw the two cloaked women sitting on what used to be the steps of the ruined grain silo. They seemed to be sharing a canteen as they talked, and he judged them to be young, though he couldn't see their faces nor their clothing. Maybe it was that only young women would be brazen and foolish enough to run away in the dead of night, or maybe it was the timbre of their voices. Either way, he doubted either was much older than he was.

Irvine joined him, having heard the voices too. He peered out at them and gave a bored shrug.

"Leave them be," Irvine said. "Just a couple of runaways."

Seifer shook his head. There was something about this that demanded his attention. He didn't know what, he just knew if he didn't pay attention, he would miss something important here.

It was only a few moments later when the pair got up from the steps and made their way back into the forest, the shorter girl lagging behind a bit, either out of weariness or reluctance.

"I'm going to see what they're up to," Seifer declared.

"Don't be an idiot," Irvine said. "I doubt they have anything to take."

"I'm not interested in their valuables."

"Then what's the point?"

"I'll let you know," Seifer said as he stalked out of the barn, blade drawn.

He headed in the direction they'd left in, taking care not to make too much noise as he followed. Up ahead, he could barely make out the shape of them in the deepening fog but managed not to lose them. He didn't know why he was doing this. Irvine was right. He was an idiot. But he couldn't make himself turn back. He had to follow. He had to know what these girls were up to. Something told him, if he didn't go after them now, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

* * *

><p>Though Quistis was on the verge of exhaustion, she knew they had to keep moving. Rinoa, for her part, had done well in keeping up, but the girl wasn't used to such rigorous activity as trudging up a mountainside in the rain and cold. When Rinoa let out a sharp cry and collapsed to the ground, Quistis almost expected it. Rinoa, breathing hard, looked up at Quistis with a pained expression from her place on the ground.<p>

"I think I just sprained my ankle," Rinoa whimpered.

Quistis crouched down and removed Rinoa's shoe. She tested the girl's injury, turning the joint slowly until Rinoa let out a cry of pain.

"I'm sorry," Rinoa said. "I was trying to be careful."

"It's okay," Quistis said. "You're not used to this. Can you stand?"

"I can stand, but I don't think I can walk."

Quistis let out a sigh and turned away from the girl to survey the location. While they hadn't gotten as far as she'd hoped, they were still a good clip away from Dollet, and these mountains were treacherous enough that it would be slow going for those who would be sent to search for them, especially if they came on horse or chocobo, which was likely. She hoped she could count on Squall to lead the search parties away from them, but there was always the chance they'd be discovered anyway. However, there was no point in making Rinoa march if she couldn't walk anymore. The girl needed to rest, plain and simple.

Their current location seemed safe enough for the time being. Relenting, Quistis gave Rinoa a curt nod and took a quick turn around the perimeter, just to be safe. She drew her hood tighter over her head, shielding her face from the drizzle. The rain had let up an hour into their journey, but had never completely stopped. As a result, she was damp and cold, but until now she hadn't felt the chill. The exertion of their ascent into the mountains had kept her body temperature up, but now, as they'd lost their momentum, she shivered a little, wishing they were somewhere warm and dry.

Without warning, she felt the cool touch of metal against her neck. In surprise, she glanced down and saw that the tip of a blade was pointed at her throat and its owner, in shadow, seemed massive in the darkness. A full head and shoulders taller than herself, he loomed over her, silent and menacing.

"We have nothing to take," she said softly. "So if that's what you're after, you'll be disappointed."

His soft chuckle was nonetheless deep and full of humor. Something about it struck her to her core, as if she'd heard it somewhere before but could not remember. For just a fleeting second, she smelled smoke. Gooseflesh raised along her arms and legs, and though she sensed there was danger, it wasn't from him.

"It's not often I see two women travelling unaccompanied at this hour, so far off the path," the man said. "It makes me think you're up to no good."

"We thought it best to travel under the cover of darkness and off the path in order to avoid thieves," Quistis replied.

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care if you do or not," Quistis said. "Would you kindly remove your blade, or would you prefer that I remove it for you?"

That earned a hearty chuckle from the man, though he didn't move his blade so much as an inch.

"First, tell me your name."

Quistis said the first thing that came to mind.

"Marian."

The man's laugh grew even deeper.

"How appropriate."

She didn't know what he meant by that, and she didn't care. She didn't like this situation in the least, but with Rinoa unable to continue, she couldn't exactly turn and run.

"Marian," he said with a grin, clearly relishing the sound of the name. "And where are you headed, Maid Marian?"

The Robin Hood reference was not lost on her. It made her think of the conversation she'd had with Zell and Squall at dinner, and she realized now why she'd chosen it.

"To Timber," Rinoa piped up. "My friend and I are looking for work."

If Quistis was torn between telling Rinoa to shut up and applauding her ability to lie in a pinch. She wasn't sure what this man wanted, but she was tired of him already.

"What sort of work?" he inquired.

"We're dairy maids," Rinoa supplied. "We heard the farms in Timber pay more than those back home."

The man cocked his head at Quistis and peered down at her.

"You're very well spoken for a couple of dairymaids," he said shrewdly. "I didn't know they bothered to educate the working class in Dollet."

"I never said we were from Dollet," Quistis said.

"Your upper-class accent suggests otherwise," he said.

Quistis was annoyed by the tone in his voice, and by the fact that he seemed intent on holding her captive while he questioned her about things that weren't his concern.

"I must insist you remove your blade or I'll have to make you."

His amused smile made Quistis want to punch him. He lifted the blade away from her throat, but with a quick motion, used its tip to flick back the hood of her cloak. The fabric fell back against her shoulders, and she looked defiantly up at him, challenging him with her eyes. Slowly, he stepped forward to get a better look at her and then froze as his eyes found hers.

Something passed between them in that instant, something familiar but completely foreign to Quistis. She could tell by his expression that he felt it too, but she hadn't a clue what it meant. She knew him, but she'd never seen him before in her life. She already disliked him for being so bold and nosy, and now she disliked him even more because something about him made her feel off balance and wildly emotional. She honestly believed he meant them no harm, but she didn't trust he had good intentions either.

"Don't we know each other?" he asked.

"Like I haven't heard that one before."

"I know you from somewhere."

"Doubtful."

Quistis meant that with every fiber of her being. There were few outside of the Elite who knew her, and those were members of the court. The handful of adversaries she'd faced in her lifetime that lived through a battle against her, she would have recognized in an instant, if only because they were so few in number. Anyone good enough to survive a fight with her was worthy of committing to memory, and this man was no one she'd faced on the battlefield. She was sure about that.

But…

There was something so familiar about him. Whether they'd met before may have been in doubt, but something inside of her was screaming, _I know you_.

Slowly, he reached out to cradle her cheek with his palm, and Quistis felt a chasm of loss open up inside her heart. Memory tugged at her again and her mind pictured a blood red moon in the sky, heard the pounding of tribal drums and smell the scent of blood and smoke in the air. Then, the dream images were gone and she steeled herself against her strange reaction to this man.

What had she lost? If she'd ever lost anything in her life, she didn't know it. Her world was what it was. Better than most, when it came down to it. Especially for a girl who'd started from the poorest of conditions and had nothing to begin with. From an orphan who'd never known her family, to renowned soldier, to courtier without a title. Truly, she'd lost nothing.

So why did she feel this way?

"I know you," he breathed.

Whatever spell she'd been under broke, and Quistis seized his hand, twisted his arm and yanked it upward, causing him extreme pain. With a bit more pressure, she could easily break the bone and he knew it. He didn't fight it, and she heard his heavy breaths as he fought not to let his pain be known.

"I didn't give you permission to touch me," Quistis said.

"Okay, okay," he hissed. "Hands to myself. I promise."

"Do it again, and I'll break both of your arms," she promised as she released him.

He backed away from her, rubbing the arm she'd nearly broken, giving her a respectful yet amused look.

"If you're a dairymaid, then I'm the President of Esthar," a new voice said from the shadows.

Quistis, surprised by the second intrusion withdrew both a dagger and her whip as she turned toward the newcomer. For all she knew, their escape had been known for hours and these men were trackers. While she didn't believe Squall would betray them, it was possible their conversation had been overheard and reported.

"Down, girl," the new arrival said. "I'm unarmed."

"I figured you'd follow me," the first man said.

"Of course I did. I had to make sure you didn't wind up doing something stupid, like get into a fight with a dairymaid."

Quistis hid a smile as she observed the second man. He wasn't as tall, and appeared to be more slender than the first man. Even in the darkness, she could see he had a kind and jovial face, a strong jaw and an impish cast to his eyes. He, too, was familiar somehow, though she had no memory of him either.

"I apologize for my friend here," the man said. "He means well."

The man held out his hand to Quistis, who reluctantly shook it.

"The name's Irvine," he said. "My friend here is Seifer. I apologize for his lack of manners. Pleased to meet you."

"Marian," Quistis said and turned toward Rinoa, who had thankfully remained silent after her lie. "And this is-"

"Emma," Rinoa said.

Irvine gave them both an appraising once over before he nodded to himself and adjusted the cowboy hat on his head.

"If you're going to Timber, you're headed the wrong way, ladies," he said. "Now, I don't believe for a second that you're a couple of dairy maids on your way to find work, but I don't ask questions that are none of my business. So for now, we'll just pretend you are what you say and leave it at that, shall we?"

Quistis wanted to laugh and at the same time, insist their story was true, but there was no point, so she just shrugged and pulled the hood of her cloak back over her head.

"Now that we're on the same page, I assume one or both of you is in some sort of trouble and you might need a place to lay low for a day or two, am I right?"

"Thank you, but we really should keep moving," Quistis said.

"How are you going to do that when Emma over there can't walk?" Irvine asked.

"And just how long have the two of you been eavesdropping?" Quistis demanded.

"Long enough to know you're in a tough spot and could use a hand."

Quistis gave Irvine a once over, weighing her options. While Seifer made her extremely nervous, Irvine seemed both trustworthy and sincere.

"And what do you get out of it?" she asked.

"We're in the business of helping the less fortunate," Irvine said. "You could say it's our calling. Besides, whoever's looking for you will find you if you stick around here. What have you got to lose?"

He was right, but that didn't change the way Quistis felt about all this. As much as she knew they needed help, she was reluctant to accept it. Only the knowledge of what she could and would do if these men tried to harm them kept her from denying them outright.

She looked at Rinoa, who looked positively giddy at the prospect of being rescued by these two strangers. It only served to remind Quistis of how sheltered the Princess had been in her gilded cage. How trusting Rinoa was, and Quistis would have to be careful that the girl's easy trust didn't get them killed.

"All right," Quistis relented. "But any funny stuff, and you are both dead men."

The pair exchanged a glance and she was rewarded with Seifer's bemused grin at her threat.

"Are all dairy maids as scary as you?" he asked. "Because I'm positively shaking in my boots. Really. I'm terrified."

"Don't test me," Quistis warned. "I'm tired and I'm annoyed and I will not hesitate to hurt you if I have to."

"Prove it."

Quistis didn't need more than that. With an easy flick of her wrist, she lashed out at him with her whip. The end of it snaked around the handle of his blade, and with a hard yank, he was disarmed. He stared baffled at the gunblade lying on the ground between them, as though he couldn't believe what had just happened.

"Okay," Irvine said, clapping his hands together. "Point taken. Seifer, back off. Marian, I expect you'll use that neat little trick to help us with the monsters on the road."

"Of course."

"All right then," Irvine said. "Miss Emma, if you'd be so kind as to climb up onto my back so that I can carry you to our destination?"

"What?" Rinoa asked, sounding afraid.

"How else do you think we're going to get where we're going?" Irvine asked. "You can't walk another ten miles on your own, can you?"

"Um, well, no," Rinoa stammered. "It's just-"

"I don't bite," Irvine said. "Not hard, anyway."

That statement earned another fearful glance from Rinoa. For all her recklessnes, now, of all times, she seemed to value caution over the prospect of adventure.

"It's okay," Quistis reassured the girl. "I don't think he'll hurt you."

Rinoa got up with Irvine's assistance, and he crouched low, pulling her arms around his neck, then looped his arms under her knees, lifting her onto his back, piggy back style. Quistis had to respect a man who was willing to carry an injured girl ten miles, on his back no less, without question. She was weary enough that she half wished Seifer would offer her the same courtesy, but she was uninjured and too stubborn to accept, even if he had.

"Where is it that you're taking us?" Quistis asked as she began to follow the men through the trees. They were heading further up the mountainside, due west of the direction Quistis had been going.

"A friend of mine has a little hide out nearby. It's well hidden, well protected and very hard to get to," Irvine said. "We'll be safe there, so you two can rest for as long as you need to and continue on when you're ready."

Quistis felt unexpected gratitude for Irvine's kindness. For as annoying as his companion was, Irvine seemed like an honest and generous guy. She reached out and put her hand on his arm.

"Thank you," she said.

"Ah, think nothing of it." To Seifer, he said in a strange tone, "Aren't you glad we didn't stick around Dollet after all?"

Seifer's expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes and he glanced at Quistis.

"Best idea you've had all week, my friend."

* * *

><p>AN: There you go. Hope the meeting lives up to your expectations. I debated for about a minute whether or not to have them duke it out, but thought the better of it. After all, why would Quistis place her trust in someone who wanted to fight her?

Next chapter will be up within a week from now (10/27), and Selphie will make her appearance, as well as Rajin and Fujin (you know they had to be in there, don't you?) I'm having great fun with this, let me tell you. And a great big THANKS to those of you who've taken the time to review.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

><p>Seifer was more than a little impressed with Marian's skill at fighting off the monsters they encountered as they trekked through the woods toward Selphie's hide out. The woman had proved more than capable of taking down whatever came across their path, and she didn't so much as bat an eye when they appeared suddenly. With cool, expert efficiency, she dispatched the monsters as though they were nothing more than a minor annoyance. Seifer was no stranger to women who knew how to fight, but Marian seemed to be in a completely different class. She fought as though she'd been doing it her whole life, and Seifer had to wonder where she'd learned it. Earlier, he'd given her a hard time about her threats to maim him if he so much as moved in her direction. Now, he believed that these were no mere threats, but promises and he showed her the respect she'd asked for by keeping his comments and his hands to himself.<p>

He didn't believe for a moment that her name was really Marian. He'd known that was lie, right from the start, as was their story about being dairy maids on their way to Timber. The question was, who were they really? Their accents were heavy with the haughty tone of Dollet's affluent society. Yet society ladies didn't fight the way Marian did. Actually, they didn't fight at all. Nor did they run off in the dead of night into the mountains with little more than the clothes on their backs. It was a strange paradox, and it intrigued Seifer.

The feeling that he knew her, that she might be the one he'd been looking for all this time, further intrigued him. He could feel it in his bones. He could feel her significance. For just an instant, he'd thought she'd felt it too. He'd seen something in her eyes, for just a fleeting moment that said she'd known him too. Then, it was gone, leaving him confused and perplexed by what he had just been so sure of. He hoped it wasn't wishful thinking on his part, that he wasn't making this woman into someone she wasn't.

There was really only one way to tell. If this was truly her, she would have a tattoo of the seal of Balamb on the back of her left shoulder. Needless, to say, it wasn't something he could easily get a peek at without looking like a pervert. Not that that was usually a problem for him, but with Marian, he had a feeling she'd run him through if he so much as flirted with the notion.

As they arrived at the ridge above Selphie's hide-out, the sun broke on the horizon, casting golden and pink rays into the fading night. Seifer stopped and looked out over the ravine below, ruminating on his own internal conflict. Everything he wanted and needed could be standing right here beside him. Or, it could have all been imagination. Interesting, though, that the feeling she was near had only grown stronger since they'd met. If this was not her, he was losing his mind.

"Rather beautiful, isn't it," Marian mused, almost to herself.

Seifer glanced over at her, taking note of the way her hair caught the light of the brightening day. Her face in profile was lovelier than he'd imagined it would be the night before. Casually, he inspected her, looking for similarities to the girl who's face he'd long ago committed to memory and he found he still could not be certain.

"Running low on Float," Irvine informed Seifer.

"Meaning?"

"You're going to have to carry Marian," Irvine said, flashing him an unholy grin.

"Carry me?" she demanded, indignant. "Carry me where?"

Seifer pointed into the ravine. "Down there."

"I'm perfectly capable of walking."

"We won't be walking."

Her expression was confused and annoyed as she looked up at him. Seifer laughed at her tenacity, which earned him a glare so filled with loathing, if she'd had the ability to make his head explode with one look, his brains would have splattered all over the canyon.

"The trail's washed out," Irvine explained. "The only way down is use float. Unfortunately, I only have enough for me and Seifer, which means you're going to have to hang on to him for a bit."

"I don't understand."

Irvine patterned his hand and was enfolded in a shimmery yellow light. Slowly, he began to rise from the ground, the injured girl clinging to his back with all her might. She let out an ungodly shriek, gripping Irvine's neck tight enough to choke him.

"Easy there, Miss Emma," Irvine hissed. "I still need to breathe."

"I'm sorry," Emma said, releasing her grip ever so slightly, "I've just….how is this happening?"

"Magic," Irvine said simply.

Quistis had heard of people who could cast magic, but she'd never seen it done. It was one of those things that she'd always thought was more legend than truth, but here it was before her very eyes. While this Float wasn't the sort she'd imagined when she'd heard the stories, it was definitely magic of some kind. She had to wonder what else these two had up their sleeves, and where they'd learned it.

"So, are we doing this, or what?" Seifer asked.

"I…"

"You have my permission to beat him senseless if he misbehaves," Irvine piped up.

That earned Irvine a smile from Quistis, but she was reluctant to go near Seifer of her own free will. They'd only just met, and already, he rubbed her the wrong way. Something about him made her feel wildly out of control, and Quistis was, in all things, absolutely in control.

"Fine," she relented.

A second later, she was swept off her feet by Seifer's powerful arms as they lifted her against his chest. She had no choice but to sling an arm around the back of his neck, though she glared up at his amused and bewitching green eyes.

Had she ever seen eyes so clear or so green? Hints of memory tugged at her, but all she got was a fleeting image of someone else with eyes that color. She grasped at it, trying to remember, but it was gone. What was it about this man that made her feel she had known him once, in spite of her protests? Why did she keep getting these images and scents and feelings from what she could only consider a nightmare?

With a sigh, she resigned herself to her position against Seifer's chest, trying to ignore the alluring scent of pine sap and hay emanating from his clothing. His grip on her was tight, but not uncomfortable. It was her own mind making this situation uncomfortable. She wasn't used to being treated like a damsel in distress, especially when she most certainly wasn't one.

She found herself and Seifer enveloped in the same shimmering light, and then felt Seifer's arms tighten around her as they rose into the air. She couldn't help the little gasp of surprise that escaped her lips as she was treated to a spectacular view of the sunrise above the peaks of the mountains. She'd never seen anything like this. When she glanced up at Seifer, he was smiling down at her, amused but not antagonistic. The smile made him seem boyish and sweet and not at all the menace he'd appeared only minutes before. In the growing light, she could see the chiseled planes of his handsome face and found that it was nearly perfect, as though carved by a skilled artist from the finest marble. It was a face she could grow to like, if she wasn't careful.

Slowly, they descended into the ravine, passing over massive boulders and scrubby bushes until they came down next to a small stream. Irvine had been right. The place was well hidden and all but impossible for anyone to get to without magic. It would also make it all but impossible to get out of. Quistis didn't like that, but now that they were here, there was no going back.

When Seifer started walking without releasing her, Quistis smacked the back of his head with her palm.

"Ow!"

His annoyed expression was priceless. Quistis felt some satisfaction in knowing that she'd gotten under his skin, too, but she didn't know why she cared.

"Put me down," she demanded.

"Gladly," he said.

Seifer dropped her unceremoniously and she barely managed to keep from falling on her backside. She righted herself and gave him a hard shove before turning and stalking up the path, furious at the laughter that echoed behind her. Just when she thought he wasn't so bad, he'd reminded her of how irritating he was.

Well. They would just have to accept help for now, and move on as soon as the Princess was healed enough to travel. The sooner, the better.

* * *

><p>Seifer trailed behind Marian and Irvine, pondering what to do next. If this woman was who he thought she was, there was no way he could let her leave. He supposed he could keep her by force, but he'd already figured that would be a really bad idea. The woman would fight it, and most likely, escape, injuring anyone who tried to stop her. All he could do was hope she would realize, on her own, who and what she was, without Seifer having to force it. Maybe remembering would check her attitude a bit. She was all ice and claws and her chilly demeanor was a little grating. Not at all the sweet kid he remembered.<p>

Up ahead, Carbuncle appeared at the mouth of a narrow passageway that lead to the cedar cabin Selphie called home. Of all of them, Selphie was the only one who maintained a permanent residence, and it served as a base of operations for the crew. Its location made it all but impossible for outsiders to find, therefore, it was one of the few places they could go when the heat was on that they could be relatively sure they wouldn't be found. Not only was it well hidden, but Selphie had her Guardian Forces posted near the entrance in case of intruders. Not that Carbuncle was a particularly fearsome entity, but it did provide protection, nonetheless. No, it was Shiva and Diablos that provided physical protection against invasion, though, to date, neither had ever been needed.

Shiva materialized, rising up out of nothing into being, and Seifer smiled as he felt the temperature drop a few degrees as they approached. He heard Marian and Emma's respective gasps as they realized what they were looking at. He doubted either had ever seen a Guardian Force, as they were not used often by anyone outside of SeeD. Since the decimation of their home, the GF's had become nothing more than a legend in most circles. A mere fairy tale that no one believed in anymore.

"Shiva," Irvine breathed. "Did I ever tell you how sexy you are?"

"Every time we meet, human, and as every time we meet, your flattery will get you nowhere without a password," Shiva said.

"I forgot," Irvine said. "How about a hint?"

"Never," Shiva said.

"Please?"

"Do not toy with me, human. The password or your untimely end. The choice is yours."

"For God's sake," Seifer muttered. "Give her the damned password."

"Someday, Shiva," Irvine promised. "Someday, you'll give in to me."

"Perhaps," Shiva allowed. "When Hell freezes over. The password, or I level you, human."

"Booyaka," Seifer said. "Now let us through."

"You have an unknown human in your presence," Shiva said. "I can not allow her to pass."

"Well actually, we have two," Irvine said. "I can vouch for them."

"I see only one unknown," Shiva countered. "Show yourself to me, young one."

Beside Seifer, Marian was visibly trembling in her awe of the Guardian, but she bravely stepped forward and pushed back her cloak. She looked up at Shiva with almost childlike wonder, and though Seifer wasn't sure, maybe a bit of recognition.

Shiva reached out and brushed a stray bit of hair from the blonde woman's eyes and smiled down at her. Marian flinched a bit at Shiva's icy touch, but her face remained fearless and curiouss.

"I am not speaking of you, child," Shiva said. "I know you, even if you do not know me. It is the other I speak of."

If Seifer had been looking for confirmation, this was nearly as good as the tattoo. For Shiva to recognize Marian…that was enough for Seifer. This was her, without a doubt.

"Do you mean me?" Emma asked in a small voice.

Shiva turned to the girl, who still clung to Irvine's back. She peered over his shoulder, looking awed and terrified and possibly on the verge of shrieking again.

"Yes. I do not know you. I can not let you pass without my master's permission."

"Aw, hell, Shiva. You know how much Selphie likes strays. Let us through," Irvine said.

"I shall ask my Master," Shiva said. "Diablos, guard them until I return."

When Diablos appeared, Emma _did_ shriek. Good, God the girl had a set of lungs on her, Seifer noted.

"What is that thing?" she cried.

"I am Diablos," the guardian roared. "I am not a _thing_. You dare disrespect me?"

"I, uh, no," Rinoa stammered. "I just, um, what _are_ you?"

"I am a Guardian."

While Irvine explained to Emma what a Guardian was, Seifer walked a few paces away, hoisted himself up on a nearby boulder and sat watching Marian. He could now see the little girl she'd been in her profile. He could see it in the wonder in her blue eyes as she stared at Diablos. There stood everything he'd been looking for, everything he'd missed all these years, and she didn't even know it. That much was clear. She didn't remember anything. She didn't remember who she was or where she'd come from or who he was to her. How lucky for her that she didn't have to relive the horror every day the way he and the others did.

"Irvy!" came Selphie's familiar screech. "You're early!"

"Hey, darlin'" he drawled. "I'd hug you, but I've got a passenger."

Selphie stopped and stared up at Emma, who gave a sheepish smile and a wave.

"What happened?" Selphie demanded. "Who are they and why are you carrying her?"

Uh, oh. Seifer braced himself for the jealous wrath of Selphie, who could never stand the idea of any other girl getting Irvine's attention, even though the two of them were not a couple. She flirted and played coy with him, and he was shameless in his advances, but neither seemed ready to be the first to say they wanted a relationship. It was kind of gross to watch, actually, and Seifer was growing tired of the constant cutesy and annoying bickering between the two. He half wished they'd just get over it, jump in the sack together and be done with it.

"These are our new friends, Emma and Marian," Irvine told her.

"I twisted my ankle," Emma said. "He wouldn't be carrying me otherwise. Believe me, it's not as fun as it looks."

"Oh, that sucks," Selphie said, sounding sympathetic. "Well, let's get you inside and see if we can't patch you up."

They followed her into the cabin, which was made of wooden planks of cedar and spacious enough to accommodate twice the amount of people. Seifer had always loved the place, if only for the way it smelled. Every room was filled with the tangy, woodsy scent of cedar, and the odor was especially strong when there was a fire going. It smelled like home, though he couldn't recall anything at Garden being made of wood. The only downside was that everything in the cabin was one nauseating shade of yellow or another.

Irvine set the injured girl on the couch and Marian immediately began her inspection of Emma's foot. As Irvine passed by on his way back to Selphie, Seifer grabbed his arm. He leaned in and murmured:

"Shiva _knew_ her."

Irvine gave him a serious, searching look and then nodded. "She did, indeed."

"She needs to know," Seifer said.

"All in good time, my friend. First, we patch the girl up, have a drink and get some rest. Everything else, we can deal with later."

* * *

><p>Rinoa's ankle was swollen twice the size of the other, and Quistis worried that it might be broken. Gingerly, she examined the most swollen area and felt what she thought was the protrusion of bone. Rinoa, for her part, was trying her best not to scream, though tears were rolling down her face and her hands were balled into tight little fists at her sides.<p>

"I think it's broken," Quistis said with a sigh.

"Broken?" came Rinoa's plaintive whimper. "Are you sure?"

"Fairly sure, yes."

"We can fix that," Selphie said, sounding confident as she bounced on her toes. "You'll be good as new in no time. No problemo."

"Broken bones take months to heal," Quistis said.

"Months?" Rinoa asked. "I can't be laid up for months! We have to get to Es-Timber."

Quistis gave Rinoa a look of warning at her near slip up. The last thing they needed was to betray their true destination, whether or not these people cared. Should they be questioned by one of the search parties Quistis was certain were now looking for them, Quistis didn't want anyone to know where they were really going.

Selphie surveyed the damage done to Rinoa's ankle, nodded to herself and motioned Seifer over.

"The bone needs to be set before I can heal it," Selphie said.

"So?"

"Remember last time, when Irvy's shoulder dislocated?" Selphie asked. "I puked, so I need you to do it."

Seifer sighed and cursed under his breath as he took a seat on the couch, taking Rinoa's foot into his lap. Quistis knew all about this, having been on both ends of the procedure herself. She felt genuine sympathy for the Princess, who had never felt real pain in her entire life. No doubt, this was going to be an eye-opening experience for the girl.

"You hold her," Seifer said to Quistis. "I'll try to do this quick. Selphie, be ready to cast."

"Okie dokie," Selphie chirped. "Ready when you are, boss."

Quistis sat behind Rinoa, wrapping her arms around the girl. Rinoa had begun to quiver, either from pain or fear, and Quistis wished she could make this less painful, but there was nothing she could do. There was no easy way to do this except to do it.

"Just breathe through it," Quistis said as she pulled Rinoa back into her chest. "Concentrate on breathing, okay?"

"Breathe," Rinoa echoed.

With a quick snap, Seifer's hands twisted the girl's ankle, expertly setting the bone back into place. Rinoa let out a shriek like none before it, arching her back against Quistis, who held her fast and murmured reassurances in her ear. Tears rolled from the girl's eyes and she gasped, leaning hard into Quistis' shoulder.

Selphie patterned her hands and a bluish light surrounded Rinoa's leg and foot, shimmering in the dark room like fireflies. Quistis watched, awed at this magic, just as she'd been at the float magic from before. She so badly wanted to ask questions, about where they learned this magic, what it was, and how to do it. She imagined how beneficial these things would be in both their travels and battles. Not to mention, the Guardians. Quistis had heard of them, but had never dreamed they actually existed. While she hadn't gotten to see what they could do, she had no doubt they would prove devastating if used to attack.

It did bother her though, the way Shiva had said "I know you." Just as Seifer had. And Quistis couldn't deny that there was some small part of her that knew Shiva, too.

What was the connection here? Everything since they'd left the castle had been strange, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something important here. Twice now, she'd been on the verge of memory, grasping for the link between herself and these people, and hadn't been able to hold onto it. She could no longer deny that somehow, they had all crossed paths before.

In her arms, Rinoa let out a half sob of relief, sucking air in great hitching breaths. Quistis pressed the girl into her shoulder, letting her bawl into her cloak. Selphie cast her magic again, then pushed Seifer out of the way and began to brace the injured ankle with a long, thin strip of cloth.

"There," Selphie announced when she was done. "Should be good to go in about two days."

"Two days?" Quistis asked. "Really?"

"Sure. Haven't you seen magic before?"

"No, I haven't. Until today, that is."

"Oh," Selphie said. "Well, the magic speeds the healing process up a whole bunch, which is so much better than sticking it out while the body heals itself, don't you think?"

Quistis nodded absently and she released the Princess, who seemed to be in a lot less pain than before. Gingerly, Rinoa placed her hand on her ankle as though testing it.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"Well, it shouldn't, but just to be safe, don't go stomping around on it yet, okay?"

Rinoa nodded and suppressed a yawn.

Quistis could feel Seifer watching her again, but she chose to ignore it. She didn't quite get the calculating expression on his face as he studied her. And studying was exactly what he was doing, as if trying to pry secrets or information out of her by staring her down. It was as unsettling as it was aggravating. She wanted to demand what his problem was, but she was too tired to fight.

And that was another problem. How could she sleep? She had the Princess to look after, didn't she? How could she protect her if she was sound asleep? On the other hand, how could she protect her if she was too exhausted to defend her if needed?

"Selphie, do you mind if these two take the guest room?" Irvine asked. "They've come a long way and could use some rest."

"Oh, yeah," Selphie said. "Sure they can. Um, bed's made and there are extra linens in the closet."

"Thank you," Rinoa said, sounding grateful. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Since I know you don't trust us," Irvine said to Quistis, "I can post a GF at the door with instructions not to let anyone in until you say so. That way, you can get some rest without worrying that Seifer here is going to murder you in your sleep."

Seifer scowled and Quistis had to suppress a smile.

"Only if you think it's necessary."

"It isn't, but I'd rather you be able to relax than have you exhaust yourself trying to stay awake protecting your friend."

"All right," Quistis agreed.

She watched as Irvine called a strange looking entity that radiated power and strength. It was huge in the small space, half dragon, half demon and it's dark scales reflected what little light there was in the room. It roared, shaking the window panes in their frames, and Rinoa cringed against Quistis at the sight of it. Thankfully, this time, she didn't scream.

Irvine commanded it to allow no one but the two women into the room until Quistis ordered otherwise. Now all their bases were covered and Quistis could sleep in peace.

"Bahamut?" Seifer asked, irritated. "Really?"

"You didn't offer to lend one of yours," Irvine said.

Without a word, Seifer swiped a bottle of liquor from the counter and stalked off towards the back of the house. A door slammed and Irvine and Selphie looked at one another.

"What crawled up his butt?" Selphie asked, making Quistis choke back a laugh. She'd been wondering the same thing.

"It's just been a very long night. You know how he gets."

"He shouldn't act like such a jerkface in front of company," Selphie complained. "Hey, do you guys want anything to eat before you turn in?"

"I'm so tired, I don't think I could eat anything without falling asleep on my plate," Rinoa said with a heavy yawn. Then she laughed, as if picturing it. "But thank you for offering."

"Room's right through this way," Selphie said. She opened a door and stood aside, revealing a room decorated in shades of yellow with a big bed covered in a frilly yellow spread. It was much nicer than anything Quistis had a right to expect. She'd resigned herself to her fate of sleeping on the ground, so this was a welcome surprise.

Once inside, Quistis lay down without bothering to undress and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long, long time, she didn't dream at all.

* * *

><p>Zell watched Squall from the corner of his eye as they prepared their horses for the search for Princess Rinoa. Like Zell, Squall had been woken an hour before dawn by the King's messenger, who demanded Zell get dressed and up to the King's chambers, pronto. Zell, hung over and exhausted from his fun with Heidi, but he got up and reported as expected. He'd expected to be sent out to fight some kind of battle, but he'd been shocked to learn that Quistis and the Princess had disappeared in the middle of the night. He didn't understand what had happened, or why they'd left, all he knew was that they were gone.<p>

Squall was silent and serious, which wasn't unusual, but Zell sensed something deeper going on with his friend and comrade. But, as usual, Squall wasn't talking.

"You think they were kidnapped?" Zell asked.

"No."

"Well, why would they run off in the middle of the night?" Zell asked. "Don't you think it's kind of weird?"

Squall was silent as he secured the saddle on Griever and tested it.

"I mean, Princesses don't just take off like that, you know?"

"What would you do if you were told you had to marry Vinzer Deling?" Squall finally asked.

"That would never happen," Zell said, missing Squall's point.

Squall gave an exasperated sigh and mounted the horse. He stroked Griever's mane, not looking at Zell.

"That's what royals do," Zell continued. "They marry other royals."

"You're right," Squall said.

"So why'd she run away?"

"Maybe she wanted to be free."

Zell wasn't sure what Squall meant, but there was no time to ask him. Two members of the other search party arrived and began to prep their horses, leaving Zell to ponder Squall's statement in silence.

Zell hadn't known the Princess well, but he'd known Quistis, and this seemed completely out of character for her. Zell might have understood if Quistis had taken off on her own, but dragging the Princess along for the ride was just sheer lunacy. If she was caught, Caraway would literally have her head, and Zell pretty much hated the idea of being the one to hunt down his friend and bring her to slaughter. He was pretty sure that's exactly the fate that awaited Quistis if she were found.

"Are you ready?" Squall asked.

"I guess," Zell said, reluctant to go.

He mounted his horse, Blitz, and followed Squall out of the stable. In silence, they rode through the castle gates and out into the streets of Dollet. Normally, their ride would be full of good humor, but the knowledge of what he may soon have to do put a damper on his mood. Squall had nothing to say as usual, but his typical blank expression was grim in the pale morning light, and Zell knew without having to ask that Squall had the same concerns he did.

Zell didn't speak again until they were a good twenty minutes into the forest. Zell was glad that it was just the two of them and that they could speak frankly. Zell wasn't so good at reading between the lines, and he had a bad habit of blurting out information without meaning to. It was one of the reasons Zell hadn't been promoted to captain. He knew it. Hell, everyone knew it.

"You really think we're going to find her?" Zell asked. "This is Quistis we're talking about."

"Doubt we will," Squall said. "Quistis knows how to survive. And how to lay low."

"What about the Princess?"

"I don't know."

"Say we do find them," Zell said. "Quistis will be executed, you know."

"I know that," Squall said tersely.

"What do you think will happen to the Princess? Think he'll execute her, too?"

"Too valuable alive," Squall said. "She was the price he paid for Winhill."

Zell thought about that for a moment. What a crappy deal for Rinoa. Traded for a piece of land, and to Vinzer Deling, of all people. The very idea of it was just gross. What she'd said the night before at dinner made a lot more sense now. No wonder she'd wished she were a commoner.

"That's like being sold into slavery," Zell remarked.

"Not exactly, but close," Squall said.

"I would have run away, too," Zell decided. "She's, what sixteen? And he's like, I don't know, a hundred? That's just wrong."

Squall gave Zell a weary sidelong glance, but gave a slight nod of his head, as though in agreement with Zell's assessment. For a while, they rode in silence, navigating the terrain with caution. The path had grown rocky and parts of it were steep. Zell knew from experiences not to push the horses too hard, or else they'd wind up injured, both horse and men.

But Zell's curiosity was getting the better of him. He had so many questions and so many concerns about this mission that he couldn't help himself when he asked:

"What do we do if we find them?"

Squall didn't answer, prompting Zell to ask again.

"Squall? What if we find them? Are we really going to apprehend them?" Zell asked. "Because, I'll be honest, I don't think I can do it."

Squall still didn't answer.

"Squall? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," Squall said. "What you're suggesting is treason."

Zell stared at Squall in disbelief. He'd known all along that Squall was one of the most dedicated soldier in the entire army, but he'd never imagined he'd do Quistis this way. Could he really do it? Could he really capture and turn Quistis over to be executed?

"That's so messed up," Zell said. "She's your friend."

"I didn't say I disagreed with you," Squall said.

Squall could be so maddening at times. Zell wished he'd just say what he was thinking instead of being all mysterious about it.

"So, what's up then?" Zell asked. "Are we really doing this?"

"We're going to do exactly what we've been told to do," Squall said. "And if we see them, we pretend we didn't."

So much for being the king's most loyal Knight.

* * *

><p>AN:

Okay, so I know I said Rajin and Fujin would make an appearance in this one, but I had to cut them until the next chapter, otherwise this would have been the chapter than never ended. The original length was almost 8000 words. As it is, it's still fairly long. Rage and Fooge should make it into the next one, have no fear.

Where are the Robin Hood shenanigans, you ask? They're coming, and Rinoa may or may not have a big part in that. As you can see, she's got a bit of growing up to do. To be honest, I actually found myself being annoyed with her through this chapter, but that's how she wanted to be written. Haha. No, seriously, I couldn't figure a way to write her in these circumstances without making her (given her sheltered upbringing) terrified of everything. But don't worry. She toughens up a bit.

Thanks to those that took the time to post a review-Atman, Tubby, lecritic, Podsara, Nikpt-o, Toriga-Okami, Lovehappyendings and Mary-Alice. Many thanks for your kind words of encouragement! Glad you're enjoying it so far.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

True Lies

* * *

><p>When Rinoa woke later that afternoon, she wasn't quite sure where she was or how she'd gotten here. She grasped at the sheets, looking around in a panic at the unfamiliar room. Then, she remembered the previous night's adventure and was filled with both anxiety and excitement that they'd managed to pull off their grand escape. True, it hadn't been without a few hitches, but she was free. No Vinzer Deling. No Galbadia. No oppressive title or crown to wear and no obligation to do as told. She was no longer anyone's puppet. Never again would she be one. She was <em>free.<em>

She sat up slowly, feeling the ache in her muscles from the exertion of walking so far and she smiled, for it served as a reminder of what she'd accomplished. Then, she frowned at her bound ankle and took it between her hands, testing her ability to move it without pain. That had been, by far, the most unpleasant experience of her life. She'd never felt any pain that even compared, save the death of her mother, and that had been a completely different kind of pain. Still, she wouldn't change it for the world because it meant she'd met these people, these common and wonderful people, who'd showed her that others truly were capable of kindness. Far more kindness than her own class of people, that was for certain. She'd found while travelling that she liked Irvine, and even Seifer a little, though she thought he was a bit forward and reckless in teasing Quistis the way he did. And Selphie seemed like the nicest girl on the planet. Rinoa could easily come to think of these people as friends.

Beside her, Quistis lay sleeping, which was unusual. Normally, the moment Rinoa was up, Quistis was too, ready to defend her honor at the slightest hint of danger. Not that there ever was any, but Rinoa had gotten a good look at Quistis' skills the night before and she'd been impressed. Quistis' ability to fight was something Rinoa had taken for granted, since she'd never witnessed her in action. All she had was a handful of old tales of how Quistis had singlehandedly brought down villains or rogue Kings back in her days with the elite. To see her fight was truly impressive, and Rinoa was glad to know that she was protected by a true Knight.

Now, with her golden hair spilling across the pillow, Quistis looked nothing like a trained killer. Rinoa had never noticed before, but there was something aristocratic in Quistis' profile. This was not the face of a commoner. Perhaps, somewhere in Quistis bloodline was a lord or even a king. It wouldn't be the first time a bastard was brought up in the castle, unable to claim their rightful title but given some duty within its walls. The same could be true for Quistis, not that it mattered. They were both common folk now and titles and birthright hardly mattered out in the real world, or so Rinoa figured.

Rinoa climbed out of bed, putting a bit of weight on her injured ankle. A dull pain flared through the joint and she gingerly unwrapped the binding. The flesh underneath was bruised and tender, but it didn't look as bad as she thought it would. She rotated it carefully and found she could move it without pain. She put her weight on it again and found it didn't hurt at all, but if felt stiff and strange.

Amazing. She'd always thought that magic was just some legend, something made up for children's stories, but now that she'd seen it with her own eyes, she was amazed by the possibilities. Between the magic and the Guardians, Rinoa knew these people were special and that she'd found them for a reason.

Maybe, with Quistis' help, they could teach her to fight and use magic. Maybe, she could somehow use it to help her kingdom.

Never mind that she suspected that they were criminals. They had met for a reason, and only the coming days would reveal what that reason was.

She slipped from the room quietly, trying her best not to wake Quistis, who must have been exhausted from both the trip on foot and the exertion of fighting countless monsters on the road. Rinoa doubted Quistis would be grateful that Rinoa hadn't woken her, but Rinoa didn't have the heart to disturb her.

She found Irvine and Selphie in the kitchen, and was overwhelmed by the scent of something delicious cooking on the stove. Her stomach rumbled and she remembered her last meal was at the banquet the night before and she'd only picked at her food as she'd contemplated her impending marriage to Deling. That now seemed a lifetime ago. Had it only been yesterday that she'd gone to the market dressed as a kitchen wench?

"Hey, you're awake!" Selphie chirped. "You hungry? Irvine's roasting an Anacondaur for dinner, but we've got bread and cheese you can snack on till it's ready."

"Please," Rinoa said with feeling.

"How's the ankle?" Irvine asked.

"Just a little stiff," Rinoa admitted, "but I'm not in any pain."

"That's a good sign," Selphie said. "Just be careful for a day or two and you should be all right."

Rinoa sat and accepted the plate Selphie offered her and took a dainty bite of the bread. It was dry, flavorless and not at all what she was used to, but she ate anyway, not wanting to refuse their hospitality.

"Where's your friend?" Irvine asked.

"Still asleep," Rinoa said. "If I know her, she'll be up and about in a while."

Rinoa took a bite of the cheese and found it harsh, but chewed and swallowed, trying not to wince. Was this really what common people ate? It wasn't very appetizing. She couldn't imagine having to eat this day in and day out.

"Where did you learn to heal injuries?" Rinoa asked.

"I dunno," Selphie said. "Just something we know how to do, I guess."

"Can you teach me?"

Selphie and Irvine glanced at one another, and Rinoa got the feeling that the magic was something of a secret.

"See, the thing with magic is, we can't do it without the Guardians," Selphie said. "It's because of them that we can do what we do."

Rinoa didn't really understand, but she nodded.

"Could I borrow one?" Rinoa asked.

Selphie laughed and shook her head. "Sorry, it doesn't work that way. The Guardians choose you, not the other way around. If you junction a Guardian who doesn't know you or like you, they won't help you."

"That's a shame," Rinoa said. "I was really hoping…well, it would come in handy. I'm feeling a little useless. Qu-um, Marian can fight, but I can't. I don't know how to do much of anything, really…"

Wasn't that the truth? When she'd come up with this plan in her head, she'd been brave and fearless and invincible. Clearly, that part had been pure fantasy, since all she'd done was slow everyone down. She didn't want to be that girl. She wanted to be tough and strong like Quistis. How else would she liberate her kingdom but to be brave and strong and willing to stand up for herself?

"If you want to learn to fight, I could teach you a few things," Irvine volunteered.

"I'm not very strong," Rinoa said. "I don't think I could fight with a sword or a whip or anything like that."

"We'll set you up with something easy to use," Irvine said. "Sef, do we still have that crossbow we, uh, found?"

"I think so," Selphie said. "Let me go see if it's in the back."

Rinoa smiled to herself, pleased by this development. She hadn't thought about a crossbow, but decided that it sounded rather romantic. No doubt, it would be more effective than cowering in the trees while Quistis fought all by herself. Magic would have been better, but learning to defend herself was good enough. Now Quistis wouldn't have to fight alone, and Rinoa wouldn't feel so completely useless. After all, now that she was free, she couldn't rely on Quistis for everything, now could she?

With this in mind, she finished her bread and renewed her resolve to change the future of her people. She would do it, or die trying.

* * *

><p>Irvine had set up makeshift targets behind the cabin and now he was showing Emma, or whatever her real name was, how to aim the crossbow. It was a Blaster Edge model they'd stolen from some Galbadian dignitaries a while back. It was easy to use, but rather powerful, so the girl's fears of being helpless would be calmed as soon as she learned how it worked. It would be a good counterpoint to Marian's close range weapons, as Emma could participate in the battle without actually having to get too close. Obviously, this girl wasn't a brawler, and it was obvious she'd never really seen much battle. Actually, it seemed she hadn't seen much of anything, if Irvine were to guess.<p>

What a strange pair these two were. Total opposites, that was for sure, and not just in looks. The blonde was cold, calm and worldly, whereas the brunette seemed naïve and afraid and quick to panic. Emma spoke with the precise and clipped cadence of a society lady and seemed as though she'd led a very sheltered life. He couldn't help but notice the way she stared at things with wide eyed wonder and became excited or terrified over small things. Marian, on the other hand, had apparently spent some time out in the real world, exploring, fighting and living as the common folk did. She, too, spoke as though she were high society, but Irvine had heard something in her voice from time to time that was much more town than palace and that told him she may have had more humble origins than her companion.

What they were doing out here was still a mystery to Irvine. Clearly, they were running from something. Something had been bad enough to make them leave the comfort of court for the wilds of the outside world. He wanted to ask, but he knew better than to pry. If either of them wanted him to know, they would tell him, but he couldn't help but wonder, if they truly were courtiers as he suspected, what could be so bad that they were willing to leave it behind?

Interesting, though, the evidence pointed to Marian being the one that Seifer had been obsessed with since childhood. Shiva would not have recognized her, otherwise. Irvine couldn't even remember her face, only that she'd been tall for her age, and blonde with an ethereal kind of beauty that made people look twice.

As a boy, he'd loved to look at her hair in the sunlight and at the way it seemed to glow under the sun's rays like pale amber lit from within. Unlike Seifer, his connection to her had only been a childhood friendship, but those two had always been bound to one another. He remembered being jealous of the way they seemed to read one another's thoughts, and the way they'd disappear for hours and come back laughing about some secret adventure that only they'd shared. When one was sick or hurt or upset, the other knew. They'd finished one another's sentences and seemed to always know what the other was thinking. Never since had Irvine seen anything like it.

Cid had called the two the chosen. Chosen by Hyne to lead the tribe. Chosen to defend and protect a way of life and uphold a culture that had, for generations, prospered and flourished on the plains of Balamb without interference.

All that was gone now. There was no tribe, no culture and no home for them to defend or lead. Which was why Irvine found it hard to understand Seifer' motivations sometimes. He never said it out loud, but Irvine knew Seifer had an image in his mind of Garden rebuilt and restored to its former glory. True, Seifer wanted to take down the dual empires of Dollet and Glabadia, but his primary aim was to go home and reconstruct a way of life that was all but dead. Irvine didn't have the heart to tell him that there was no going back. All but a handful of them still remembered, and those that didn't were unlikely to leave the lives they had adapted to. Some had spouses and children and homes in places far from their old island home, which lay in ruins under the burning Balamb sun, and they had nothing to gain from returning.

Marian, it seemed had adapted to her life post Garden. She'd either forgotten because of time or through necessity. Irvine didn't know what happened to her after their home was burned, as several of the children had been taken, along with a number of GF's. Perhaps her life had been difficult enough that she had just wiped the entire memory of that night from her mind. Sometimes, Irvine wished he could, too. There had been so much death, his parents among them, and so much blood….

Irvine pushed back the memory and focused on Emma, who was staring at him.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You looked lost for a moment."

"Say okay, not all right," he suggested. "Are you okay."

"Are you okay?" she asked with a funny smile on her face.

"I was just thinking," he said. "So, back to our lesson. To fire, once you've got your target in your sight, you pull the trigger there and let 'er fly. Got it?"

"I believe so," she said.

"You _think so."_

"Right," she said. "I think so. Aim, pull the trigger."

"Try to hit that stuffed moogle over there," Irvine said, pointing to a raggedy stuffed toy that Selphie, for some reason, had held onto after finding it in the street in Winhill. "Aim for its chest."

Emma followed his instructions, aimed, fired and let out a squeal of delight as the projectile hit the toy, knocked it over and came flying back to the Blaster Edge.

"I did it!"

"See? Piece of cake," he said.

"Piece of cake," she agreed.

"Keep practicing and you'll be a pro in no time," he said. "Just remember, if you're not shooting, you need to be moving, and if you're not moving you're dead."

Emma nodded and took aim again.

Suddenly, the ground around Emma's feet erupted in flames. She shrieked and wisely chose to seek shelter behind a nearby boulder. Irvine went on alert just as a second ball of flame streaked past him, lodging firmly in the trunk of a tree just a few feet away. It was an arrow. Someone was firing on them.

"Stay down," he told Emma, as he lifted his rifle and braced it against his shoulder.

A third flaming arrow streaked past him, landing at his feet, missing his boot by less than an inch. He searched the steep cliffs above for sign of their attackers and found nothing. The next arrow whizzed by his ear, so close he felt the heat of its flame sear his skin as it passed.

A loud guffaw echoed through the canyon and Irvine dropped his rifle, scowling.

"That last one got a little close for comfort, Fujin," he called. "You're losing your touch."

"RAGE!"

Fujin stepped out from behind a tree and sent another arrow flying, cackling like a madwoman. This one, though not on fire, pierced Irvine's hat, knocking it from his head and he cursed, lifting his rifle. He fired into the rocks below Fujin's feet, causing her to jump about a foot in the air.

"JERK!"

Somewhere, Raijin guffawed again, clearly amused by the scene.

"You done yet?" Irvine called. "Or should I keep shooting till I accidentally hit one of you?"

The pair descended into the canyon, floating gently to the ground, Raijin still chuckling. Emma stepped up beside Irvine, lifted the Blaster Edge shakily and aimed it at the pair. Irvine had to admire the girl's bravado, even though it was clear she was terrified by what she'd just witnessed. Maybe there was a real fighter hiding somewhere in there. He reach over and pushed the weapon down and shook his head.

"They're friends of mine," he told her. To Fujin, "You owe me a new hat."

"LAME."

"Yeah? Well so is shooting at your friends," he said. "That was my favorite hat."

"It was pretty funny, ya know?" Raijin chimed in. "The look on your face."

Raijin's eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open in an exaggerated imitation of surprise. Irvine retrieved the damaged hat and settled it back on his head. Damaged or not, it was his favorite.

"SEIFER?" Fujin asked.

"He's around somewhere," Irvine told them. "Sulking, as usual."

"HER?"

"And other things," Irvine said, not wishing to discuss it in front of Emma.

He turned to Emma and introduced her to the pair, apologizing for their poor manners and lack of concern for the safety of others. Emma was wide eyed but polite and Irvine couldn't help but notice the way she offered her hand to them, as though she was expecting them to kiss it. Curious, but it confirmed his earlier suspicions about her origins. He was definitely going to have to keep an eye on her.

"So, yo, we got some news from Dollet," Raijin said. "Like, really interesting news, ya know?"

"What kind of news?"

"So, like, you know how everyone was talking about how the Princess was supposed to marry that Vinzer Deling guy? The one we don't like?"

Leave it to Raijin to be the diplomat of the group. Their collective feelings for Deling were far stronger than just general dislike. It was the understatement of the century.

"Well, they're saying, like, she was kidnapped, ya know? By, like, one of her ladies in waiting," Raijin said. "The whole city's going crazy, and a whole bunch of the Knights are out in the woods looking for her."

"Kidnapped?"

"STUPID."

"Fujin's just saying, whoever kidnapped her is pretty dumb, ya know? Caraway, like, beheads everyone. For like, any reason."

Irvine couldn't help but notice the way Emma went still at his side. Her face was frozen in a look of dull horror and an alarm went off in Irvine's mind. Suddenly, it seemed no coincidence that these two supposed dairy maids had the manners and bearing of court ladies. Was it because they were?

One thing Irvine knew for sure; Seifer could not find out about this.

* * *

><p>Quistis woke to afternoon sunlight steaming across the bed where she'd spent a good part of the day. Rinoa was gone, and Quistis, to her surprise, wasn't really all that worried about her for a change. She didn't know why, but she trusted these people enough to believe that Rinoa would come to no harm while the girl was out of Quistis' sight. It was irrational, but she felt it deep down that everything would be fine. So long as Rinoa could keep her mouth shut about who they really were, that was.<p>

She got up and made for the door in search of the restroom. Out in the hall, there were several doors and no one was around to ask, so she pushed open the door directly across from her. What she saw inside came as a shock.

There were piles and piles of gold and silver ornaments, goblets, plates, and statuettes all jumbled together on a table. She also observed what looked like a substantial amount of Gil, as well as jewelry and several dozen varieties of precious stones, various weapons and carefully rolled maps. There must have been thousands upon thousands of Gil worth of trinkets in there, not to mention the thousands in actual Gil coinage. She let out a gasp of surprise and stepped back-

Right into Seifer.

Quistis jumped, pulled the door closed and spun around to face him. Though she had nothing to hide, she felt guilty.

"Snooping, are we?" he asked.

He was shirtless and his powerful, well defined chest was right in her line of sight. His hair and skin were damp, as though he'd just bathed, and he smelled of something woodsy that Quistis found almost irresistible.

He backed her up against the door and leaned his hands against the doorframe, pinning her in. Quistis didn't like this at all, but she didn't want to fight him after the kindness he and the rest had shown, either. Still, if he tried anything, she would have no choice. She wouldn't hesitate to bring him down if she had to.

"I asked you a question."

"I was trying to find the restroom."

"This obviously isn't it," he said, inclining his head toward the treasure room.

"No, obviously not," she murmured.

He searched her face for a moment, and his expression was expectant. Quistis didn't understand what he wanted from her, so she remained where she was, refusing to let him intimidate her.

"You're not curious?"

"I don't ask about things that aren't my business."

"Touche."

"Can I go now?"

"I don't think so."

Quistis looked up at him, perplexed and irritated. She was about to make him back off when her mind finally registered what she'd seen. In the room behind her, there had been a full set of gold dinnerware bearing the insignia of the Kingdom of Galbadia. The jewels and money, the maps….

"You're him, aren't you?" Quistis asked. "Robin Hood."

Seifer's expression was enigmatic. Then, he smiled. His grin was pleased, but dangerous, and Quistis had the feeling if she said the wrong thing now, she would be in trouble.

"So what if I am?"

"They're looking for you, you know. Caraway. Deling. They want you dead."

Seifer just shrugged, towering over her, but somehow, no longer threatening. Something about him being this close bothered her. It seemed to be a pattern already, though they'd known one another less than 24 hours. This was the third time he'd gotten too close and Quistis vowed that the next time, she would remind him why he should maintain his distance.

"They've been looking for me for a long time. They haven't caught me yet."

"Confident, aren't you?"

It occurred to Quistis that if she and Rinoa were caught, this information might just save her life. Or not. Chances were Caraway would kill her anyway. Regardless, this information was valuable. It also occurred to her that she and Rinoa were in danger here. In Seifer's mind, she and Rinoa might represent the very Kingdom his Robin Hood alter ego professed to hate. If their secret were to come out, they would be taken hostage, held for ransom and maybe killed. They'd stepped out of one fire and directly into the flames of another, hadn't they? It left Quistis feeling very uneasy.

"They're smart, but I'm smarter," Seifer said. "They haven't even come close to finding me, and it's going to stay that way."

"Dollet's army is not to be underestimated," Quistis said.

"Neither am I."

When he turned to walk away, Quistis saw a tattoo on his left shoulder blade that was more than just a little familiar. She, Squall and Zell all had the same tattoo in approximately the same place. Without thinking, she reached out and traced the curve of the rightmost outline, wondering what this meant. Under her touch, Seifer stiffened and spun back around, his face suspicious and guarded.

"You were a Knight?" she asked.

"What?"

"The Knights of Dollet?" she asked. "Were you one of them?"

"Why would you think that?"

"This tattoo. Some of them have one just like it."

He gave her a calculating look and raised an eyebrow.

"How many?"

Quistis just shrugged, wishing she hadn't said anything at all.

"I would rather die than serve Caraway," Seifer said. "This isn't the mark of his Kingdom, it's the mark of _mine_. The legacy he stole from us when I was a kid. He burned our home, destroyed an entire way of life and most of its people."

"I don't understand."

"Either he stole the symbol of our home to use for his own, or these Knights you're talking about are part of our tribe," Seifer said. "Either way, he stole something from us. Which is why we take what we can, when we can."

His face was hard and bitter now, and she felt a pang of sadness and regret. How many lives had she herself destroyed the same way on Caraway's orders? Too many to count, she supposed. But she'd had no part in whatever history he had with Caraway. Evidently, it had happened long ago, long before anyone had put a blade into Quistis' hands and told her to fight.

"Does this Kingdom have a name?"

"It does, but I wonder if it would mean anything to you."

"What is it?"

"Garden. Balamb Garden."

Garden. Somewhere, she'd heard something about a place called Garden, but the details were sketchy and more fairy tale than reality. It had been a land where people could make magic, and it had been destroyed in a long ago war. From what she knew, there was little left but ruins.

"Garden doesn't exist anymore," Quistis murmured. "It was…burned."

"Yes, and all but a handful of its citizens got out alive," he agreed. "Me and my merry band of thieves are the survivors. We're the only ones left that still remember."

"You're SeeDs?"

He nodded.

It explained so much. The magic. The guardians. She understood now. These were what remained of a lost civilization, the last of a tribe of magicians and warriors unlike any others in the world. How Caraway and Deling had managed to destroy the small but immensely powerful culture was beyond Quistis.

"You've seen others with a tattoo like mine?"

"Yes."

"And what were you doing that you were able to get such a good look?" Seifer asked, his eyebrow raised and his expression now amused. "You dairy maids sure get around."

Quistis gave him a dirty look and turned her face away from him. She knew she should have told him about her own, but something kept her from saying it out loud. She didn't know what it meant that she had one, but she was sure it didn't mean that she was one of them. She'd lived in Dollet her whole life. Whatever the reason for it, it had nothing to do with Garden. More likely, it was as Seifer said. Caraway had stolen the insignia and used it for his own purposes. There could be no other explanation.

Besides all that, Quistis understood that this was a dangerous situation they were in. Seifer, and his crew hated, with good reason, the Dollet Empire. Quistis and Rinoa were very much a part of the Dollet Kingdom. Rinoa the only heir to the throne. Quistis was responsible for bringing about the ruin of cities and cultures across the continent. Confessing who and what she was would be foolish and she now regretted admitting that she knew others with the tattoo. To have said anything meant that Squall and Zell were in danger, too.

"Tell me your real name," he said. "I know it isn't Marian, so don't lie to me. Marian was an interesting choice, by the way, given the givens."

"Does it matter what my name is?"

"It does to me," he said. "And anyway, I think you owe me the truth."

"It's Kristin."

"Liar."

"Lola?"

"We helped you," he said. "Your name is the only thing I'm asking in return."

Would it matter if she told him her real name? Outside of the Knights and court, she wasn't known by her true name anyway. The Kingdom's enemies referred to her only as the 'Angel of Death,' because those unlucky enough to cross her path seldom lived. Therefore, her name and face were virtually unknown outside of court, where no one would remember her as anything but an attendant to the princess.

Relenting, she said, "Quistis. My name is Quistis."

Seifer looked as though someone had punched him in the stomach. His breath left him and he turned away from her, leaning an arm against the opposite wall to support himself. She didn't understand his reaction. It was as if her name had taken the wind out of his sails and now he was a ship floundering in a storm.

"Quistis Trepe," he murmured. "I thought so."

"I didn't tell you my last name," she said.

"You didn't have to," he said. "Because, whether you remember it or not, we have met before."

* * *

><p>So, it really was her. Quistis. His childhood friend. The girl, no <em>woman<em>, he'd been looking for. For a moment, he felt as though he couldn't breathe. She remembered nothing of her past, it seemed, and whatever had happened in the time between then and now had made her hard and cold and emotionally closed off. If she did remember him, would she even care who he was or how important they'd been to one another? He wasn't sure it would matter to her. Whatever life she'd lived in Dollet had changed her and made her forget who she was and where she'd come from. And what a contradiction. She had the bearing of an aristocrat and spoke like a courtier, but fought better than most men. Where and why had she learned to fight?

"How do we know each other, then?" Quistis asked.

Seifer couldn't help but be shaken, and for a moment, he couldn't find words. There were too many things to say and nothing at all that would make sense. All he could do was stand there and resist the urge to spill every single memory of those long ago days in the hopes that she might remember. Instead he just looked her over, feeling both relief and disappointment.

"Seifer?" she asked. "When did we meet?"

"A long time ago," he finally said.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember you."

Seifer just shrugged and turned away so that she wouldn't see the disappointment in his face.

He thought about what she'd said about the tattoo as he stared at the wall. She'd known others with the mark of SeeD. They were Knights of Dollet. She must know she had the same tattoo…so what did that mean?

She was one of them. She was a Knight. There was no other explanation as to why she believed that it was a symbol of Knighthood. The way she fought made more sense now. Seifer had known strong women all his life, women that were not afraid to stand up and fight, but their methods were less refined. For these women, it had been out of necessity rather than occupation. There was something practiced, effortless and coldly efficient in the way Quistis fought, as though she'd been doing it a lifetime. He'd heard that the Knights started training young, battle strategy drilled into them almost as soon as they could hold a sword aloft. Was that the kind of life Quistis had lived? Had that been her childhood?

Seifer let out a breath and turned to face her again, unsure of what to do now. Though she was clearly on the run from something, she could be very dangerous to him and his gang. More appropriately, they could be very dangerous to each other. If he had to make a choice between his gang and having her back in his life, he wasn't sure which he'd choose. While his gang had been by his side for as long as he could remember, she'd been the one thing he never wanted to live without. She'd been the reason he was doing this.

What to do? Letting her leave was no longer an option. Letting her stay could be disastrous.

"What are you running from?" he asked, turning to face her again.

"Who says I'm running?"

"I'm not stupid," Seifer snapped. "Two dairy maids running around the woods at night? Are you kidding me? I doubt your friend Emma knows which end of the cow gets milked, and the last time I checked, pedicures aren't a common practice among the working class."

"What are you talking about?"

"Emma's feet," Seifer said.

He'd noticed, while setting Emma's ankle, that her toenails were neatly trimmed and painted a pale shade of pink. That and the tender softness of the sole of her foot had tipped him off to the fact that he was dealing with a pampered young lady and not a working girl.

The question was, why was Quistis, who may have been a Knight of Dollet running off with a girl who was probably a courtier? It was obvious she was protecting the girl from something or someone, but why Quistis was willing to risk the possible consequences, Seifer didn't understand.

Quistis looked cornered and she let out a sigh.

"What are you running from?" he demanded. "Tell me the truth."

"I can't," she said. "And I won't."

Seifer took a step toward her, looking down at her tenacious expression and knew that no amount of coercion or threats would make her talk if she wasn't willing. He supposed, it was time to play the only card he had.

"What rank were you," he asked softly, "in the Knights? Considering the way you fight, I'm guessing you were pretty highly ranked. Maybe even an Elite."

Quistis' expression was stunned. Her mouth opened, and then she closed it, looking as though she were deciding whether to run or fight. He had a hunch, if she chose to fight, she wouldn't leave him alive. He saw it in her eyes.

She'd been an Elite, without a doubt. And there was only one woman in Dollet history who had been good enough to attain that level within the Dollet army.

It was then that he knew who she was, besides the girl he'd loved since childhood, and he was suddenly very, very afraid. His heart broke as he took a step back, watching her with newfound respect.

She was Dollet's legendary assassin.

She was the one they called the Angel of Death.

She was the enemy.

* * *

><p><em>AN: A great big thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. As I said, this story has been great fun to write, and I never imagined that something that I was just toying around with got such an overwhelming response, so thank you, thank you, thank you for such a positive words. You guys are the best!_

_To answer Ally Todd's question-no, this isn't based on any particular adaptation of Robin Hood. At the start, this was a Non-FF8 fic but it wasn't really working. The idea to absorb it into a FF8 tale came to me after watching Legends of the Fall and Dances With Wolves within days of each other. The initial idea was heavily influenced by Native American culture, not Robin Hood. I saw this: Seifer=Tristan Ludlow. Irvine=One Stab. Rinoa=Kevin Costner (if only in a 'realizing the atrocity of it all' kind of way and perhaps an –SPOILER ALERT- Angelo connection, re. Angelo = The Wolf). SeeD = the decline of the Native American people at the hands of land-hungry colonists._

_Sounds odd, yes? I agree._

_So, how did Robin Hood come in to play?_

_Men In Tights. (Tight Tights!)_

_I shit you not. That stupid song popped into my head while trying to figure out how to make it work. And then I thought of Alan Rickman as the Sheriff (IMHO, the best Sheriff ever-dude's totally on the edge and over the top, in the worst adaptation ever made – seriously, that movie might have been decent, if not for Costner. He's the same guy in EVERY MOVIE, no matter what character he's playing). After that, it all just sort of fell into place. What I have is a very loose adaptation with a whole lot of other random influences._

_Again, thanks for the reviews, y'all! Cheers!_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

><p>Back in Dollet, King Caraway was growing impatient that his daughter had not been found yet. He was even more furious that she'd somehow convinced Quistis to help her. Rinoa on her own was one thing. The girl would never have made it far without help. She was too weak and simple to have evaded his search parties, nor did she have the fortitude to have survive on her own. The girl could barely dress herself, let alone figure out how to live off the land or feed herself.<p>

It was unfortunate that Rinoa happened to be in the company of the smartest, most deadly and fearless soldier Dollet had ever seen. Caraway regretted ever making Quistis Trepe train with the Knights. He'd known, even then, that Quistis owed him no particular loyalty, but he'd thought time served on the battlefield would break her, or at the very least, change her attitude. Instead, she'd only gotten stronger. No matter what hell he'd put her through, she'd grown stronger and more deadly. In fact, it seemed the only thing he'd succeeded in was to strip away any tendency toward mercy in her. While it had served his kingdom to have a soldier so deadly that her name was synonymous with death, he had created his worst nightmare. He was not so foolish that he didn't believe that, under the right circumstances, she would come for him. And if she did, he wouldn't stand a chance.

If he could do it all over again, had he known what she was, he would have killed her on the spot. Now he had a monster on his hands, and that bitch had somehow convinced his only daughter to run.

He should have just killed her at the first sign of defiance. Then none of this would have happened.

But, without her, he would not enjoy nearly as much wealth as he currently held. It was because of her success that his army was the most feared in the world, and because of hear fearlessness that he owned half the lands in the world.

She'd had her uses, but that time had come to an end.

Presently, a dark haired woman in her forties stood before him; a witch of such immense power that certain precautions had to be taken to protect everyone she encountered from being torn to bits by her magic. She was blindfolded and her wrists were bound by thick metal cuffs. It was no secret that the witch hated Caraway, but he was rather fond of her, if only because her predictions had never failed to come true. He based most of his tactical decisions on her word, and she had never steered him wrong.

The magic aside, the witch was weak. She was slight and frail, and given to long, painful bouts of weeping for the family and home she hadn't seen in years. Unlike the others, she had never forgotten who she was or where she came from, and she never let Caraway forget what his greed had cost her.

In the beginning, the witch had refused to speak, but Caraway had made it clear that there were things much worse than death, that he could cause her great pain without killing her. He'd shown her the only way to make it stop was to tell him what he wanted to know. Eventually, she stopped fighting it, answering his questions without hesitation, though her answers didn't always make sense.

"Where is my daughter?" he asked now. "Why hasn't she been found?"

The witch dropped her head and shook it lightly, as though denying what she was seeing.

"I can not see her," the witch said. "There's a barrier of protection around her, some kind of force that hides her from my sight."

"You know the price of a lie, Edea. You're not lying to protect her, are you?"

"I have nothing to gain from telling tales, your Highness," she promised. "I can not see your daughter in the present time."

"Is she still alive?"

"Yes. She lives. That much I know," Edea said. "I sense something has changed within her. I see her will growing strong. I see her changing her fate and the fate of those around her."

The downside of having a fortune teller was that sometimes, the message was cryptic. Caraway did not have the patience for it, but he'd learned over the years he would have to wait if he wanted any kind of prediction that made sense. Eventually, the pieces would come together, so long as he could keep his temper in check long enough for her to paint him a picture. That was the difficult part. He was not a patient man.

"Meaning what?" Caraway demanded. "My daughter is a weakling."

"Your daughter has her mother's courage and her father's tenacity and the hand of something blessed keeping her safe. She will not fall by your hand."

Enraged, Caraway picked up a goblet of mead and hurled it at the witch. Though she was blindfolded, she ducked in time to keep from being hit by it, but was splashed by its contents. She didn't even bother to wipe away the evidence of his rage as fat droplets rolled down her cheeks and neck.

"I want her found! You will tell me where she is, or you will suffer!"

"Punish me if you will," Edea said softly. "She is in shadow. I can not see her."

The King kicked over his chair and stalked to the window, staring out at the courtyard below. He needed Rinoa found, and he needed her found now. His future dealings with Galbadia depended on Rinoa's safe return. If she was not found, his relationship with Deling would be compromised, and that was not something he could risk just yet. Not while Deling still lived.

"What about Trepe? Can you see her?"

"No, sire. She, too, is among shadows."

Caraway was through with this ridiculousness. His patience was at an end. He stormed over to Edea and seized her by the upper arms and shoved her back against the nearest wall. If she was not so valuable to him he would have killed her right then and there.

"You will tell me everything that you can see, or I promise you, for the next three days, you will feel pain like you've never felt before, so much pain you'll beg me for death," Caraway growled.

He dug his fingernails into her upper arms and was rewarded with a small cry of distress. Edea's lower lip trembled in fear or agitation, and tiny sparks began to arc from the cuffs on her wrists. Caraway had seen it before, but he had nothing to fear. It meant only that the cuffs were doing their job in protecting her from the woman's wrath. She was no danger to him now. While the cuffs held, he would be safe from her magic.

"They will be your end," Edea whispered. Her words came fast and urgent. "You split them in two, but they have been reunited because that is what fate has willed. Distance could never truly keep them from finding one another. The cracks that split them apart are mending, and they grow closer by the hour. She will remember and Eden will rise again and the flowers will bloom in the valley once more…"

Caraway shook her, screaming a mixture of curses and nonsensical words in frustration. She was making no sense to him at all. What had he split in two? This meant nothing to him. Nothing.

Sometimes, this strange rambling was all he got out of her when he pushed too hard. Silently, he cursed himself and let her go, returning to the window.

"Start making sense, woman, or I'll split _you_ in two," he said.

There was a long, silent moment while Edea collected herself. Caraway wondered if she had nothing more to say, but then he heard her sigh and then the soft tread of her bare feet on the stone floor as she came to stand near him.

"Your Elite are no longer under your control. Your armies will raise their swords and follow another into the fray," she said softly, though her voice was stronger than before. "Dollet will fall and you will fall with it, and the Crown you stole will be returned to its rightful owner. Have no doubt, your rule will come to an end and with it, your power, your pride and your Kingdom."

"_I AM THEIR KING!_" the king bellowed. "They would never defy me!"

"They are not loyal to you," Edea promised. "They are loyal to another, and they would defy you to protect her."

"Protect whom?"

"Quistis," Edea said. "And by extension, your daughter."

"You're telling me they'd rather protect _her_ than their Kingdom? They'd disobey their King for _her_?"

"Without hesitation," Edea said. "If she calls, they will rally around her to destroy you."

Caraway couldn't believe what he was hearing. Somehow, Quistis had turned his entire force against him.

"That conniving bitch!" Caraway screamed.

He would have to execute every last one of them, just to be sure he had no more traitors in his midst, and that presented a huge problem. He couldn't exactly kill off his entire fighting force. If word of that got out, no doubt his cities would be overrun with crime and his enemies would use it as an opportunity to try and take Dollet. That could not happen. He could not afford to lose so much as an acre of land to rebels. He could not show weakness.

"I don't care how hard you have to look, you will find Trepe and my daughter or I'll make sure the rest of your life is spent in agonizing pain from the moment you wake till the moment you pass out from exhaustion. You will find her and you will tell me the truth or I'll boil you alive. Slowly," Caraway threatened.

Yes. He wanted Quistis alive, so that he could take her apart piece by piece and watch her suffer. And just for fun, he'd make Rinoa watch so that she knew the price of disobedience, then he would kill her too and tell the world she'd died of injuries inflicted by her kidnappers. He would play the grieving father and regain the favor of his kingdom. The people of Dollet would sympathize with a heartbroken parent, he was sure of that.

"It isn't too late for you, your Highness," Edea said. "You can still change your own fate, if you're willing to surrender. You can redeem yourself if you so choose."

The witch was rambling again, and Caraway brushed it off. He had more important matters to deal with. Starting with executing every member of the Elite.

* * *

><p>Rinoa felt a kind of panic welling up inside of her that she'd never felt before. Her heart pounded in her chest as the others discussed the details of her kidnapping. They couldn't find out the truth. They couldn't know who she was. Not now, not ever.<p>

"So, like that Erich Deling guy is supposed to be, like, leaving Dollet tomorrow," Raijin said. "He's supposed to have a ton of stuff with him, ya know? I think we should-"

"Not now, Raijin," Irvine said. "I'll talk to Seifer later."

Raijin looked at Rinoa as if he'd forgotten she was there. Understanding dawned in Raijin's eyes and he nodded agreeably.

""So, like, what's that I smell cooking, ya know?"

"Anaconduar," Irvine said.

Raijin was practically salivating at the mention of it. Rinoa had to admit, it smelled good, but food was the last thing she was concerned about now. To be found out would jeopardize her freedom and maybe even her life. It was a risk she couldn't take.

"Do me a favor," Irvine said to the pair, "go see if you can find some of those wild onions Selphie likes."

"GRAVY?"

"Gravy indeed," Irvine confirmed. "Since the gang's all here, and we've got company, we should do it up right and have a proper feast, don't you think?"

The pair needed no other encouragement, leaving Rinoa alone with Irvine once more. She knew from the look on his face that he'd figured it out and she braced herself for the conversation to come. What would they do to her if they knew? Turn her over to Dollet? Hold her for Ransom? Kill her?

"I'll try to keep Seifer from finding out about the kidnapped Princess," Irvine said. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do what I can. Don't want him to make any assumptions, do we?"

"Right," Rinoa agreed. "That would be for the best."

"He's going to find out eventually," Irvine warned. "I don't know how long I can keep it from him."

Rinoa didn't want to leave these people behind, but it looked as though she and Quistis would have to move on sooner than planned. Though she believed Irvine was on her side, she had her doubts about Seifer. She had a hunch he'd turn her over in a heartbeat. But what he didn't know was that he'd probably be killed too. Her father was not one to give the benefit of the doubt when it came to what he saw as treason. Even if she were to admit she hadn't been kidnapped, that she'd run on her own, he would kill all involved, simply to punish her. She couldn't stand back and watch others be killed because of her. Capture was not an option.

"We'll leave tomorrow, at daybreak," she promised. "We don't want to be a burden."

"No burden," Irvine said kindly. "Like I said, we're in the business of helping others. Sometimes to our own detriment."

Rinoa didn't know what that meant, but she was grateful. Still, they would have to move on, and soon.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you run?"

Rinoa hesitated. Quistis wouldn't want her to answer, but he already knew, so what was the point of lying? Irvine wanted nothing more to help her. He deserved an honest answer.

"I had several reasons for leaving," Rinoa admitted. "The arranged marriage to Vinzer Deling was just the catalyst. That man was going to have me killed and use it as an excuse to take Galbadia."

Irvine looked at her with so much sympathy, Rinoa had to look away. Sympathy wasn't what she needed now. What she needed were the tools to do something about it. If she could only get to Esthar, she would be safe, and maybe be able to come up with a plan to end all this strife.

"Then you were wise to leave," Irvine said, "but what do you plan to do now?"

"I don't know," Rinoa admitted. "I don't really have a plan."

"Then why not stick around?" Irvine asked. "Hyne knows, Selphie could use some female companionship. Not to mention, you're probably safer with us than anywhere else in the world."

Rinoa smiled at his kindness, but she was sure that Quistis would insist they leave once she knew Irvine had discovered her identity.

"It's probably for the best that we go," Rinoa said.

"If you're worried about your friend, don't. Seifer can be very persuasive."

"And she can be very stubborn when she wants to be."

"No doubt," Irvine said. "But don't underestimate him, either. He has his reasons for wanting her to stay."

"Do they really know one another?" Rinoa asked.

"It was a long time ago, but yes. They've met before."

"Was it in Dollet?"

"Before that. Back when they were kids."

"You knew her too?"

"I did," Irvine said.

Rinoa had always assumed Quistis was from Dollet, but she'd never really thought about it or even bothered to ask. Quistis had never mentioned a past before Dollet. To know she was from some other place intrigued Rinoa and Rinoa wondered if she should ask about it.

"What was she like then?"

Irvine smiled and patted Rinoa's arm.

"Pretty much the same as she is now, except she smiled more."

Rinoa pondered that. Had she ever seen Quistis smile? No, she didn't think she had, and Rinoa wondered why. Was it because she had been forced out of the Knights and was no longer among her friends? Or was it something deeper than that?

"It's probably best not to mention this to her," Irvine said. "If she remembers, it should be on her own. There might be a good reason she forgot."

Rinoa nodded, not agreeing, exactly, but willing to do as he asked. He had helped her, after all, and she was grateful for his understanding. She knew one thing for sure, she would be there for Quistis when she remembered. Good or bad, she'd be there. It was a small thing, but it was the best she could do for her friend.

* * *

><p>Quistis' first instinct was to run. If Seifer had figured out that she was an Elite, then he'd most certainly made the connection and he knew who she was and what she'd done. He hadn't said it, but he'd figured out that she was Deling's assassin. She could tell by the cautious but respectful look in his eyes and the way he'd backed away from her ever so slightly, as though he sensed how lethal she could be if he cornered her.<p>

Mentioning the tattoo had been a dangerous, stupid move, but it had taken her by surprise. Now, she'd given herself away somehow and she was in even more danger than before.

"Now that we know one another's secret, what do we do?" he asked softly.

"My friend and I leave," Quistis said. "You forget that you ever saw us and we will do the same."

"I don't think so."

"You can't possibly believe that you can force us to stay," Quistis said.

"Who said anything about force?" he asked. "I think we can help one another. We each have something the other needs."

"What do you have that we could possibly need?"

"Protection in numbers, for one," he said. "Plus, we have dozens of hide outs that your army could never find, even if they searched for weeks."

"Not good enough."

"How about the support of the commoners? If you're with us, you're protected," he said. "In fact, they purposely mislead the authorities so that we're not caught. Because of what we do."

"And what do you get out of it? If we stick around?"

"Your skill," he said. "And your knowledge of how the Elite works."

"I'd never tell you the truth about how they operate."

"So you're loyal to Dollet? Even though you ran?"

"I'm loyal to my friends," she said. "Dollet has nothing to do with it."

"But you did run."

"I ran," she confirmed, her voice steely.

"And how long do you think you're going to survive when your friend can't even defend herself? On your own, you'd probably be able to disappear, but she's holding you back. Whoever she is, we both know she's better suited to parade around court in a pretty dress, stuffing her face with delicacies the rest of us will never get a chance to taste, and discussing the latest palace scandal," he said. "Without help, she's going to get you killed. Both of you."

Quistis knew Seifer was right. Rinoa's lack of worldly experience would likely be their downfall in the end. Could they make it to Esthar? It was possible, but Quistis was already doubting their chances of avoiding capture. They hadn't even been gone a full day and already, Rinoa was injured and exhausted, and Quistis had already considered the problem of when she herself might be able to rest. She half regretted not letting Squall tag along, if only because it meant she had some back up and someone reliable to keep watch while she slept.

"Sooner or later, they'll catch up to you. They'll find you, and I bet whatever you did, they're going to kill you for it," Seifer continued. "You, of all people should know that better than anyone. Maybe you're okay with getting killed, but what about your friend? Obviously, she means something to you, otherwise, you wouldn't have taken her with you when you split."

"And how do I know we can trust you?" she asked.

"When you remember who I am, you'll know."

Quistis was stumped. She couldn't, for the life of her, remember him. Memory teased her but never revealed itself. She only got those same impressions of horror and smoke and a deep, crushing sense of loss.

"It'll come to you," he promised. "Just…stay. Help us and we'll help you."

Against every instinct to continue running, Quistis gave in. They would stay as long as seemed safe, and go their separate ways as soon as it seemed the danger of being discovered passed. For now, it was their only hope.

"We'll stay. For now," she agreed.

Seifer's surprise was evident in his face but he covered it with a lecherous grin. From his pocket he removed a soiled strip of cloth and pressed it into her palm. Her first instinct was to drop it, but he closed her fingers around it and stepped away, holding her gaze with a stare of challenge.

"To help you remember, Quistis. Don't make me wait too long."

* * *

><p>Squall and Zell sat at the bar in a tavern nearly a hundred miles north of Dollet. This was some no-name town that was mostly made up of ex-patriots and rebels and it was dangerous for them to be there, but Squall had figured it would be the best place to get information. They were dressed as commoners, having hidden their uniforms in the forest to avoid recognition and they sat listening to the conversations around them as they nursed their ale. So far, Squall had heard only speculation about where the Princess might have gone. There were many who believed that she had been kidnapped for ransom, while many more believed she had left on her own.<p>

Some thought she'd fallen in love with a common man and had run off to marry him and live in poverty. Some believed she'd joined up with rebel forces. Still, it seemed the majority believed she was already dead, having been killed on her father's orders. Squall knew the first wasn't true. He doubted the second, and feared the third might come to pass.

"The King's offered a reward for the safe return of the Princess and her captor," a man announced as he walked through the door.

His announcement was met with laughter, as it was already old news.

"Beheading, that's what the King offers as a reward!" someone shouted. "Only a fool would believe otherwise."

"No, he's promised a title and lands in Balamb, plus half a million Gil to the person that brings them back alive," the man said. "I heard it from an informant inside the Dollet army. He heard it from the King himself. It's true!"

Squall and Zell looked at one another and knew that the King may have offered this bounty, but would never live up to it. It was just his way of motivating the greedy. Anyone to come forward with the Princess would meet a swift and untimely end. Squall didn't even what to imagine what he would do to Rinoa. He most certainly wouldn't let her live.

"Furthermore, he's offered a twenty-thousand Gil reward for each member of the Elite," the man continued. "Ten thousand for anyone else proved a traitor."

"Then everyone in the room is worth at least ten thousand," someone piped up. "Shall we turn on one another and the last man standing gets the prize?"

This observation was met with snide laughter. The room filled with the buzzing sound of voices as people began to speculate about what might have happened to cause the defection of the entire Elite force. The news seemed to have cheered the rebels, rather than give them cause for concern, and Squall could understand why. The news that the Elite was no longer in Caraway's control, and his obvious fear of people like the ones in this room meant that the cracks in his defenses were beginning to show. With a little push, the walls might crumble completely.

Five years ago, Squall might have cared that he was surrounded by fifty people who were half-heartedly plotting and predicting the fall of Dollet. Back then, he was young and inexperienced and believed fully in the Dollet way, but the years spent fighting people who were merely defending their homes and lands had robbed him of any sense of loyalty to the king. This was something he'd kept from his comrades but he'd always sensed that in their own way, they'd felt the same as he did, to one degree of another. Their dissatisfaction had always remained unspoken, but it had been there. They had fought on the side of Dollet because there was no other option for them and their lives, however short, were better than many, many others and they were allowed freedoms that others would never get. For that reason alone, they had stayed, for the alternative was a traitor's death.

"This is bad," Zell murmured beside him.

Squall shook his head. Now was not the time to discuss it.

"You don't think he'd actually kill his own daughter, would he?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

"That's messed up," Zell said. "How could someone kill the only family they have?"

Squall shrugged.

"Guess money and land and power are more important to him than stuff like family," Zell said, stating the obvious. "Doesn't he know that for some people, family's a luxury? Like, some people don't have anyone at all?"

"I don't think he cares."

"Man, I feel sorry for her," Zell said. "I bet she loves him, you know? Because he's her dad? Must really stink to know he'd sell her for land or kill her or whatever gets him more power. I can't even imagine what that feels like. No wonder she took off."

In his ineloquent way, Zell had pointed out something that hadn't occurred to Squall. Rinoa probably did love her father, even though Caraway could only see her as a piece of property to be traded or sold or bargained away. Squall had to wonder if knowing that was worse than not knowing at all.

Squall had never known his parents. He used to think about it when he was younger, wondering if he'd simply been abandoned or if he'd been loved by someone that had passed away through illness or war. Then, he'd stopped thinking about it at all. The way he saw it, if he'd been abandoned, he didn't care to meet them, and if they'd died, he never would.

Rinoa's plight, he decided was far worse. Loving someone who didn't love you back had to hurt. Being used that way by someone who was supposed to love and protect her must have been brutal.

Running was a stupid thing to do, but he couldn't blame her for doing it. Not now. Now that he'd had time to think it through, he understood why she'd done it. It was dangerous and impulsive, but it was probably the only way to save herself from a worse fate.

Squall paid for his tab and followed Zell from the bar, heading back to the forest where they'd left the horses and gear. They rode in silence for a long time before deciding to stop and make camp near a dense, dark part of woods, nearly a mile off trail. Squall decided to take the first watch.

"I hope we find her before someone else does," Zell said as he laid down to rest. "I hope nothing bad happens to her."

"Quistis is looking out for her," Squall reminded him. "She'll be fine."

"I know this sounds weird, because she has a lot of stuff people only dream about, but I hope she gets the chance to be happy some day," Zell said. "Like, really happy."

Squall didn't say it, but he hoped so, too. He picked up a pebble and tossed it at Zell.

"Hey!"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

Zell settled back down, but Squall's hope that he would shut up was dashed a few minutes later when Zell began to talk again.

"We can't go back, you know," Zell said. "We have a bounty on our heads. He'll kill us."

"I know that," Squall said.

"What do we do? If we can't go back, where do we go?"

"I don't know yet," Squall admitted.

"I think we should find Quistis and the Princess," Zell said. "I bet she could use some back up."

"I thought that was the plan," Squall said.

"Say we find them. Where do we go?"

"Probably to Esthar," Squall said. "We'd all be safe there."

"Yeah. Esthar," Zell agreed. "I bet it's cool there. Do you think it's a cool as they say? I hear nobody goes hungry and nobody lives in the street. And there's no caste system. Like, a poor man can make his fortune if he wants it badly enough. And the government is run by those chosen by the people, not someone born to it."

"I don't know if any of that's true," Squall said. "Could just be rumors."

"You ever think the world could be like that?"

Squall didn't know. He truly didn't know. It was a nice thought, but he wasn't sure if it was possible. He didn't know of a single time in history where the world was a utopia where there was no suffering. As far as he knew, things had always happened this way. The rich prospered, the poor struggled. But it was nice to think that it could.

"In a world like that, Rinoa could marry whoever she wanted," Zell said. "She wouldn't have to worry about having to marry someone she doesn't even know. Hell, she wouldn't have to get married at all, if she didn't want to. Wouldn't that be something?"

Now, that was food for thought.

* * *

><p>Later, while the rest were eating the feast he'd prepared, Irvine found Seifer and pulled him aside so that their guests wouldn't overhear their conversation. Seifer had been positively giddy for the remainder of the afternoon, and the only explanation was her. Irvine was happy for him, but they had other pressing issues to deal with, and he needed Seifer focused.<p>

"Erich Deling's leaving Dollet in the morning," Irvine told him. "Thought you might want to know."

"What about Vinzer?"

"Don't know. He's probably halfway back to Deling City by now."

"Erich Deling's a peasant with a title," Seifer scoffed. "He has nothing to take."

"Not what Raijin heard," Irvine said. "Supposedly, Caraway's given him some kind of compensation for failing to find him a bride. Now he's going back to Centra to waste it on booze, tacky décor for his hovel, and cheap women."

Seifer pondered this in silence for a while.

"Easy pickings," Irvine said, "I'm betting he'll be drunk before he hits the city limits."

"What kind of guard are we looking at?"

"Raijin was told the bulk of Dollet forces are otherwise occupied on some mission, and Deling's own guards are likely to be drunk as he is, or at the very least, not loyal enough to defend him in a real fight," Irvine said. "We missed the whale, but at least we can catch the minnow. Better than nothing, right?"

Seifer nodded, seeming distracted. Irvine caught him staring at Quistis as she helped Selphie clean up after the feast. Hyne, they'd stepped in it this time. Finding Quistis was one thing, but a runaway Princess was another. There was no doubt in his mind who they were. The timing was too close, all the signs there. And the Princess hadn't been kidnapped, she'd run. It was very clear to him, she had not been coerced. She was here of her own devices. He found that as curious and amusing as he found it troublesome and dangerous. A rogue Princess could well be the thing that got them caught and killed.

"Seifer? I thought we were having a conversation here."

Seifer returned his attention to Irvine, but it was obvious he didn't want to discuss Deling.

"It's her," he said.

"I thought we established that."

"She told me her name. Her real name."

"Let me guess. It's not Marian."

"I don't think you get what I'm telling you. It's her. Quistis. Do you know what this means?"

"It means you're not nuts," Irvine said impatiently. "Can we focus? Please?"

"I am focused. Deling. Lots of money. Little to no guard. Drunken, easy target. Got it," Seifer said.

"If we're doing this, we need to come up with a plan and set up an ambush point," Irvine said. "Or are you so love struck you forgot about that?"

"Pot, meet kettle," Seifer muttered.

Irvine ignored his comment. There was no point in dignifying the accusation with a response. His relationship with Selphie was complicated. Never mind that neither wanted to admit that there even was a relationship or that either even wanted one with the other. And now was not the time to ponder the absurdities or complexities of Selphie's flighty on again, off again affection.

"So the question is: what to do with those two while we're occupied?"

"Quistis agreed to help us," Seifer said.

"You sure about that?" Irvine asked. "I know she's your long lost love and all, but are you sure we can trust her?"

"Absolutely," Seifer said.

"She know who you are?"

"No," Seifer admitted. "Well, she knows about the Robin Hood thing, but not the rest."

"How'd she figure that out?"

"Selphie left the treasure room unlocked," Seifer said.

Selphie was notorious for leaving that door unlocked. While their camp had never been discovered, much less raided, and everyone trusted those involved in the operation, they had an unspoken rule to make sure that door stayed locked at all times. It was more of a precaution than anything, but was necessary in cases such as this.

"She must have forgotten to check after she got the crossbow for Emma earlier," Irvine said. "I'll remind her later."

"Tell her I'll break her fingers if she forgets again," Seifer said, and then his brain finally processed what Irvine had just said. "Wait, what crossbow?"

"The one you guys lifted from that Galbadian Lord last week. Figured it was going to waste just sitting there," Irvine said. "Gave her a few lessons so she wouldn't feel useless."

Seifer looked dumbfounded. "You what?"

"There's no harm in it," Irvine said. "Gives her something to do. Anyway, she's a crack shot. A bit of practice and she'll be lethal."

It was true. Princess or no, Emma-Rinoa definitely had some natural talent for the weapon. Under the right circumstances and with a little confidence, she might actually be pretty good. That was, if she didn't get them all killed first.

He leaned against a nearby rock and pondered the situation they were in. Even before they'd met the two women, he hadn't wanted the Princess involved in any way, as had been Seifer's original plan. It was too risky and too dangerous to consider, but now they'd stepped in a great big pile of Grendel shit and were in it up to their necks. He thought it was best that the two went their separate ways, but he knew Seifer, and Seifer would never let Quistis go.

But, Irvine also saw an opportunity here, as insane as that was. If the Princess had run from her kingdom, it meant something had gone wrong. Arranged marriage aside, why she was running was still a bit of a mystery, but the important thing was that she had been worried or unhappy enough to split. And that might be what made all the difference.

Their whole Robin Hood charade had been born out of a desire to rebel against the oppressive rule of two dictators. And now, the daughter of one dictator and future bride of the other was in their midst. If Rinoa's dissatisfaction ran deep enough, she might be the very key to bring on a revolution beyond compare. She might be the very reason the tide turned, should she chose to reveal her identity to the world and fight on the side of the commoners. It was risky, and maybe stupid to consider it, but the possibility couldn't be denied.

Perhaps she was too naïve to understand the state of the world and her role in it, but Irvine had already seen that though she was uneducated about the world at large, she was not stupid. He had no doubt, if she were to truly understand the ways her father had destroyed and conquered, she would side with them and maybe even take up their cause.

Irvine didn't share these thoughts with Seifer. Now was not the time. His friend was too distracted by Quistis to fully comprehend what he was saying, and furthermore, Irvine had promised Rinoa he would do his best to keep her identity secret. He would not break that promise, though he knew Seifer would eventually put the pieces together and come to that conclusion on his own. For now, it was best kept to himself.

"So, Quistis knows about the steal from the rich, give to the poor operation we have going on?" Irvine asked.

"All that crap in there made it pretty obvious," Seifer said. "I couldn't exactly try to sell her on the idea that I was descended from both Dollet and Galbadian monarchy and had inherited two entire sets of royal silverware, now could i?"

"Relax. It was just a question," Irvine said. "Besides, if we're going to do this, we need to make our plan and get moving."

Irvine looked over at the two women and saw them talking, much the same way Seifer and himself were talking. The discussion looked tense but controlled and the Princess kept casting nervous glances their way as she worried a silver pendant around her neck.

"You sure we should use them?" Irvine asked.

"Deling has a fondness for beautiful women."

"Meaning what?"

"He wouldn't stop to help you or me, would he?"

"Probably not," Irvine agreed. "But he would stop for a pretty girl in distress."

"Exactly."

And just like that, there was a plan.

* * *

><p><em>AN: _

_Addressing some questions/comments here._

_ Not sure how the last chapter was perceived a short one. It was over 5k, which is about average for me. Some have been longer than that (the first chapter of this was close to 7) and some have been shorter, but I try to keep them in the 5-6 range. Maybe it just read like it was short? J__Some of you anticipated my plans for Caraway. But I bet you didn't anticipate Edea. Ha. I think he's a loose cannon now, but he has the potential to come further undone. Baby steps. __Yes, there are bigger reveals later in the story. Two big ones. At least. But those come later and have only been alluded to at this point. And it may or may not be what you're expecting. _

_The next couple chapters should be fun for you readers. There's violence, robbery, character backstory, tears and possibly scars. _

_Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the reviews. I'll keep posting chapters so long as you keep tuning in. I can't promise a consistent posting schedule, but I'll stick with it if you stick with me. _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

><p>Quistis sat on the bed in her room, alone, waiting for Rinoa to return with a selection of dresses she would wear for the ambush on Erich Deling. The plan was in place, and though she wasn't keen on the Robin Hood angle, nor was she a fan of being used as bait, it was as solid a plan as they could come up with on a moment's notice. To her, it seemed dramatic and amateurish to play at being modern day robber heroes, but whatever they were doing seemed to be working. They had evaded capture for more than five years, and there was something to be said for that.<p>

All that aside, she was glad for the chance to show Deling that she hadn't appreciated the way he'd treated her at dinner the night they'd met. She was still disgusted by his behavior and by her inability to do anything about it at the time. What a nice touch of irony it would be the one to take the payment he'd surely been given for his trouble.

Selphie and Fujin had already left and would meet up with them later at the ambush point. Quistis, Seifer, Irvine and Rinoa would head out once Quistis was dressed and ready to go. Dawn was still hours away, and Quistis hadn't slept much, but neither had anyone else. She figured she could catch a short nap on the way, and that would be enough. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd had to function on little sleep, and she doubted it would be the last.

While she waited for Rinoa to return, Quistis stared at the piece of cloth Seifer had given her, trying to figure out what it was, but it didn't trigger any memory at all. It was similar in width to a bandage, but only a couple feet long, the fabric a dirty coral, stained in places with what might have been blood. Someone had stitched a crude design that resembled the SeeD tattoo in black thread, but the stitching was coming undone in spots and absent in others. It was repulsive, really, and its significance was lost on her.

Why Seifer had given it to her and what it meant, exactly, was beyond her. Was she supposed to cherish it as a token of faith or affection? If she was, Seifer was going to be sorely disappointed. She didn't know what it was, let alone what it meant, and it was difficult to be sentimental about something that meant nothing to her. It was just a dirty piece of cloth, and nothing more.

The door opened and Rinoa entered, carrying an armful of gowns and petticoats in several colors. She dumped them on the bed and held up a corset for Quistis to see.

"Bet you thought we were done with these," Rinoa said.

Quistis groaned as she disrobed and pulled the corset over her head, giving a heavy sigh as she looked at herself in the mirror. She hoped this would be the last time she would ever have to wear one. Carefully, she slipped on an ankle length petticoat and tied the sash at the waist.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Rinoa said. "It's so noble, don't you think?"

Quistis kept her opinions to herself on that subject. She was still reeling from her conversation with Seifer earlier, and a part of her still felt staying was a bad idea. Even if they could help and offer protection, it was risky.

"Which one do you think is Robin Hood?" Rinoa asked.

"None of them," Quistis said. Then she shrugged. "All of them. Does it matter?"

Quistis didn't much care, but she doubted any of them really considered themselves the true Robin Hood. It was more a name given to them by the common people because of what they did than something they'd cooked up on their own. True, the idea had come from legend, but Irvine had admitted they'd never thought of calling themselves that.

"I guess not," Rinoa conceded. "I'm just really excited to be part of something that matters. I feel like maybe I can make a difference instead of sitting around like an ornament. Does that sound strange?"

"No," Quistis said, "but I suggest you stay on guard. We don't know enough to count on them."

"Of course," Rinoa said humbly. "I know that. But I don't have a plan yet, and this sounds like a good one to me. It can't abide what my father's doing, and I want to do anything I can to thwart him. I'm not wrong for wanting that, am I?"

Quistis preferred to stay neutral on the subject, but Rinoa wasn't really asking, just seeking approval. Quistis gave it to her with a shake of her head.

"Do my laces?" Quistis asked.

"Um, I've never done it before, but I'll try."

Quistis had forgotten that Rinoa never had to lift a finger back at the castle. Her ladies had dressed her and done her hair for her. Not once had the girl needed or wanted to do anything for herself. Of course she wouldn't know how to lace a corset.

"It has to be tight," Quistis told her, as Rinoa took hold of the laces. "Even if you think you're pulling too tight, it's probably not tight enough. Don't worry about hurting me. You won't."

Quistis stood there, feeling Rinoa tug at the laces, but there was no tightening of the fabric around her waist. The girl was trying in earnest but to no avail.

"Tighter," Quistis said patiently.

"I'm trying," Rinoa complained. "It's not cooperating with me."

The door opened and Quistis saw Seifer in the mirror behind her. Rinoa was scandalized and tried her best to hide Quistis from his sight. Quistis, who was still clutching the scrap of fabric, quickly stuffed it down the front of the corset so that Seifer wouldn't think she'd been obsessing over it. That was the last thing she needed, and she didn't want to have to answer any questions about whatever past they shared, or be pressured to remember. And what did it matter anyway? The past was the past. Over. Done. Gone. What could be so important that he hadn't let go of it? And if it was truly important, why couldn't Quistis recall it?

"Out!" Rinoa cried. "Quistis isn't dressed yet!"

Quistis had already informed Rinoa that they knew her real name, much to Rinoa's relief. The girl had admitted to almost slipping a few times, and was glad for the ruse to end. At least, where Quistis was concerned. Rinoa was having a bit too much fun playing Emma the dairymaid, and didn't mind being called by an alias for the time being.

"It's fine," Quistis said. "Let him in."

Quistis had lived with men for many years and had gotten over any semblance of shyness about being seen half undressed. For Rinoa it was improper, but for Quistis, it was not uncomfortable in the least. And if he over stepped his bounds or was overcome by seeing her in this state of undress, she would just have to remind him she could kill him as easily as putting a knife through butter.

Rinoa gave her an anxious glance and then continued to tug at the laces to no avail.

"What's the hold up?" Seifer asked.

"Having a little trouble with the corset," Quistis said. "I'll be ready shortly."

"Let me do it," Seifer said, sounding harassed.

"We'll manage," Quistis said. "Just give us a few minutes."

"Trust me."

Quistis didn't trust Seifer one bit, but before she could protest, he stepped up behind her, brushing Rinoa gently aside as he took the laces from her hands. Quistis felt the corset begin to tighten around her waist as Seifer worked the laces. She stood in silence, holding her breath as with each pull her waist was cinched beneath the whalebone and muslin. It was an unpleasant sensation, and she silently wished there was some way she could just avoid it completely, but a Courtier's gown was built around a corset and the fit was strange without it.

While Seifer worked, Rinoa held up the gowns one by one for Quistis to see. They were typical court wear, though some were obviously low quality versions of a Courtier's gown, like those seen at brothels. Quistis immediately ruled these out. She decided on a beautiful gown of rich blue velvet, gilded with gold thread stitching on the bodice and sleeves. It was almost scandalously low cut, yet very much something an unmarried woman at court would wear to attract the attention of possible suitors.

"You've done this before," Quistis said to Seifer as he expertly worked the laces at her back.

"I usually do Selphie's when we use her as bait."

"Why not Fujin?" Quistis asked.

"Fujin would rather be hanged than promote the anti-feminist agenda by helping someone put this torture device on."

"What about Irvine?"

"Selphie and Irvine should never be left alone together when there are corsets involved. We'd never get where we were going," Seifer said. "Actually, they should never be left alone together under any circumstances unless you enjoy explosions, violence and mayhem."

"They're together, then?"

"Who knows?" Seifer mused. "All I know is that they're dangerous together. Irvine gets off on getting Selphie all wound up and encouraging her more reckless tendencies, and Selphie gets off on getting Irvine all worked up over her and then denying him. It's just smarter to keep them apart when we have to work with a timeline."

Seifer gave the laces one last tug then tied them firmly in place. Then his eyes met hers in the mirror and neither moved as they silently appraised one another in the glass. She felt his fingers brush against the edge of her tattoo, echoing her touch earlier and throwing it back at her.

"I think you forgot to mention _this_," Seifer said, staring at her in the mirror.

There was something shrewd and calculating in his gaze, but Quistis refused to look away. It was as if he were daring her. To do what, she didn't know.

"I'd already given far too much away," Quistis said. "Anyway, I didn't think it mattered."

"It matters," he said so softly that only she could hear.

The disappointment in his face was unmistakable. Quistis thought he was expecting far too much from her under the circumstances. They'd only just met, or just met again, and whatever their acquaintance had been, it had been long enough that she'd forgotten. She wished he would just let it go.

Then, she felt Seifer's thumb slide along the scar on her back. It was the wound that nearly killed her during her last battle. Her breath left her and she couldn't seem to get it back because the corset bound her so tight, taking more than a shallow breath was difficult. She swayed a bit and pressed a hand against her sternum. Seifer steadied her, his gaze questioning in the mirror.

"I may not be able to fight so well in this," Quistis said.

"All we really need is for you to get him to stop. We'll do the rest."

* * *

><p>Seifer couldn't take his eyes off of Quistis' reflection in the mirror as she stood there wearing only the corset and petticoat. Her hair fell in soft waves down around her shoulders, making her seem far more innocent than she was. He couldn't read the way she was looking back at him, but that made her all the more alluring. The mystery in her eyes drew him in and he found he couldn't speak for a moment.<p>

He returned his eyes to the scar on her back, which began the top of her right shoulder joint, and disappeared under the fabric of the corset, next to her spine. He could tell, just by looking at it that it had been deep and had been treated with traditional medicine. To him, it looked like she'd been struck with something like a sword or dagger and with considerable force.

He thought about all the times he'd felt her pain from afar and wished he'd been there to help her, to stop such an injury from happening. To know she'd suffered this kind of wound made him feel guilty and negligent.

"We were ambushed," Quistis said of the scar, without him having to ask. "After the battle for Timber. We thought we'd subdued the rebels, but a group of them attacked us in the night. They were much better than we anticipated. Our watch didn't even hear them coming."

Seifer couldn't help but trace the line of the wound again, wincing at the thought of Quistis in pain. But it explained so much. He'd sensed her presence in Timber, after the city fell. He'd felt her wound. So, his instinct hadn't been wrong after all. He'd just been looking in the wrong place. When he'd pictured her, he never imagined that she had been among the soldiers and not the common folk. He'd never thought to look for her in the ranks of the occupying army.

"I nearly died of blood loss," she continued. "It was my own fault. I knew I was badly injured but I kept fighting until I couldn't stand anymore. It took months to heal."

"Magic would have closed it right up," Seifer said.

"The rest of us don't have that luxury."

Seifer knew she was wrong, but didn't correct her. Some day soon, she'd figure it out, but for now he would keep his silence.

It was then that he spied the bit of coral fabric sticking out of the top of her corset and he grinned, unable to help himself as he reached for it. If there was a more appropriate place for her to keep the cloth, Seifer didn't know it, and the symbolism wasn't lost on him.

In an instant, there was a dagger pressed up under his jaw, hard enough for him to feel that the blade was sharp enough to slice his throat open. He froze and put his hands up in defeat, not wishing to give her reason to draw blood.

"Interesting place to keep that," Seifer said through gritted teeth.

"It seemed important to you. I didn't want to lose it," she said sounding defensive.

She watched him warily, making sure he knew he'd crossed a line. Whatever trust had allowed her to permit him to lace the corset was gone, and he knew he would have to back off. She had made it clear more than once that she didn't appreciate his overly familiar behavior, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think it meant something to you."

"I have nowhere else to keep it," Quistis said. "And until I invite you, keep your hands to yourself."

"So, you do plan on inviting me eventually?" the teased.

Her only response was to press the dagger a little harder against his skin. Any more pressure, and the blade would surely cut him.

"Could you drop the knife?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Selphie will kill me if we get blood on her carpet."

She dropped the blade, not amused, and fished the fabric out of her corset. Then, she wadded it up and hurled it at him.

"Whatever _that_ is, _you_ keep it. It didn't help me remember anything," she said.

"I doubt you tried very hard," Seifer muttered.

He rubbed the spot where she'd held the dagger and felt a slight impression of where the blade had pressed into his skin. Silently, he cursed Caraway for whatever he did to make her this way. The Quistis he remembered had been a bossy tomboy with a sense of adventure, but she had also been sweet and gentle and slow to anger. The only trace left of that girl was in her interaction with Emma.

"Why should I?" she asked. "Whatever it is, there's probably a reason I forgot. Maybe I don't want to remember."

"And maybe there are things I'd like to forget," Seifer said, "but I'm not so lucky. And unfortunately for me, those memories tie me to you, so you're stuck with me until you do."

"That sounds like a threat," Quistis said. "Don't you dare think you can hold me hostage. I'll tear you apart if you so much as think about it."

Seifer had no doubt that she was capable of doing just that and he wished there was some way he could make her understand the importance of their connection. He was getting nowhere. It was vital that she remember, but she was either not trying or those memories were so deeply buried that she would never know him.

"I'm not going to hold you hostage," he said, annoyed. "I already told you that."

"Would you stop me if I walked out that door, right now?"

"Don't," Emma pleaded. "If we have any chance of surviving, we need their help. You can't protect me all by yourself, and you know that."

Seifer had forgotten Emma was still in the room. Through their brief altercation she'd stayed silent and unmoving next to the bed, but Seifer was glad she'd spoken now.

"We leave in five minutes. I suggest you get a move on because I'm not waiting."

He left them and went to the porch, where Irvine was filling a pouch with shotgun ammo. Seifer leaned against the railing, feeling anxious about the disagreement as he worried the strip of cloth in his hands.

"What's taking them so long?" Irvine asked.

"Damned stubborn women, that's what."

"If I know you, you're pushing her too hard to remember, and she's pushing back. Am I right?"

"Shut up."

"Quit trying to force it," Irvine said. "She'll remember in her own time. Not everything in this world works on your schedule, my friend. You'd do well to remember that."

"I said, shut up."

At that moment, the two women emerged from the cabin, Emma dressed in leathers borrowed from Fujin and Quistis in the gown. Seifer could only stare. He could see how Quistis would have easily fit in at court without having to try. She looked stunning and untouchable, like the daughter of royalty. She was aloof and intimidating. She was that woman at the ball that every man wanted but was too afraid to approach.

"Damn, woman, you clean up nice," Irvine said with a grin as he looked Quistis over. "Deling's eyes are going to fall right out of their sockets. You look like a Queen in that get up."

"I certainly hope so," she muttered. "Are we ready to go?"

"Ready when you are."

This time, there were float spells for each of them, so Seifer was spared the agony of having to hold onto Quistis. Once they reached the top of the ravine, Irvine lead them to the wagon that Fujin and Raijin had prepared for them. They'd already agreed that Irvine would drive and the remaining three would hide in the back behind stacks of empty crates.

Pulling the cart were a pair of yellow chocobos that caused Emma to squeal in delight and insist on petting before they could coerce her into the back of the wagon. Irvine was amused by her behavior but Seifer and Quistis were not.

"You can play with them later," Seifer said, irritated. "Get in the wagon or I'm leaving you here."

"Sorry," Emma said, "I've never seen one up close before."

"What kind of dairy farm did you come from?" Seifer asked. "Don't chocobos run the butter churns?"

"Um, yes," Emma stammered, "but, um…we weren't allowed to get near them. Distractions and things."

Seifer rolled his eyes at her lie but left it alone. Now was not the time to care or debate the truth. He motioned for the two women to get into the back of the wagon, then he climbed in after them. He noticed Quistis had wedged herself into a corner so that Rinoa would be sitting between them, and Quistis would be as far away from him as possible.

Damn, she wasn't making this easy.

It was a good thing Seifer loved a challenge.

* * *

><p>Quistis woke with a start as the wagon came to a halt, and for a moment, she was disoriented. She'd been dreaming again, of fear and fire and death. She screeched, flailing at terrors that didn't exist, sure that everything around her was burning. She could smell smoke and blood.<p>

Gentle hands smoothed back her hair and she fought them in panic. She had to get away from the fire and the death. Where was Rinoa? She had to get Rinoa out of here.

"Quistis?"

"Everything's burning," Quistis heard herself say.

"Shh, Quistis," Rinoa's voice said. "It's okay. Nothing's burning."

Rinoa's voice cut through the nightmare and Quistis let out a breath, shuddering in relief. This dream had been unusually vivid. This time, she'd seen everything with clarity. This time, she'd seen the faces of those around her, contorted in pain, wracked with fear and stony with death. Vivid and horrible, but not real.

Strange, though, she swore she could still smell the harsh, acrid notes of wood fire. And she tasted blood, coppery and thick in the back of her throat.

"There's no fire, sweetie," Rinoa said. "You're all right."

Quistis sat up as her breathing returned to normal. She didn't smell smoke anymore, just hay, and that was a relief. Hay she could deal with, even if it was now tangled in her hair and had somehow worked its way into the back of her dress. The blood, she still tasted. She'd bitten the inside of her cheek in her sleep, it seemed.

"You okay?" Rinoa asked.

Quistis nodded wordlessly.

"You want to talk about it?"

Quistis shook her head. What was there to say? She'd had a nightmare. The same nightmare she'd had for years. It was just a dream. Even if it did scare the piss out of her every time, it was still only a dream. She'd faced worse horrors in her lifetime, things much worse than fire. She'd seen men die and whole villages burnt to the ground. She'd taken lives and watched the life blood drain out of people she considered friends. She'd seen people tortured in ways too horrific to speak of. What was all that compared to a fire?

"That must have been some dream," Seifer mused softly from the other side of the cart.

Quistis steeled herself against his ridicule, but when she met his eyes there was no humor in them. One of his eyebrows twitched upward in an unspoken question, but he most certainly wasn't laughing at her. In one hand, he held the coral colored cloth, worrying it between his thumb and forefinger. And there was that calculating look in his eyes again, his stare level and serious.

"You were talking in your sleep," Seifer said.

Quistis just shrugged.

"Want to know what you said?"

"It was just a dream," Quistis snapped. She changed the subject as it dawned on her that they were no longer moving. "Have we arrived?"

"Waiting for Selphie," Seifer said. "She should be here soon."

Quistis closed her eyes and leaned back against the wooden wall of the wagon, aware of Seifer's eyes on her. She tried to ignore him, but she could feel him watching her with that calculating gaze of his.

Hyne, what did he want from her? Every interaction with him seemed loaded with subtext that she didn't get, but was apparently supposed to. It was true that she sensed some kind of history between them, but what did it matter now? Why was it so damned important to him that she remember?

* * *

><p>The ambush was set and Fujin had notified them that Erich Deling's small caravan was approaching from the north. Seifer looked at Quistis, who had been mostly silent since waking from her nightmare in the back of the wagon. Cautiously, he reached out and picked a bit of hay from her hair and flashed a smile that was anything but apologetic. Her eyes flared with anger at his invasion of her space, then cooled when she saw the bit of hay between his fingers. He tossed it casually aside and looked her over for any other tell-tale signs that she'd just slept in a pile of hay.<p>

"Almost finished, ya know?" Raijin called. "Can I get a hand? This thing's heavy."

Behind them, Raijin was busy loosening the bolts on one of the cart's wheels. Seifer joined him and lifted the wagon while Raijin tilted the wheel enough to make it look as though the wagon had broken down on the road. That way, Quistis would look the part of a helpless courtier stranded in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't a perfect plan, but as good as it got on short notice. Seifer only hoped that no one noticed the wheel wasn't actually broken before the caravan stopped to offer help.

The rest had taken their places in the trees and bushes on Fujin's warning, ready to fire on Deling's caravan if needed, but Seifer doubted their assistance would be needed for more than a threat against the lowly Lord of Centra. Fujin had said Deling was guarded by six, plus a driver. Seifer figured he could take all six himself without a problem, but he was glad for the backup if Deling's guard proved to be tougher than he thought. It was doubtful, but it was better to be prepared than to be caught unaware.

"You ready?" he asked Quistis when he returned to her. "You know what you're supposed to do?"

"Look pretty and helpless," she said. "Don't worry. I've done this before."

Then her eyes went vacant, she smiled brilliantly and batted her eyelashes in a way that was so convincing, Seifer had to laugh. She looked exactly like he'd always imagined a Courtier would look. Brainless, vapid little flowers, with no more purpose than to look pretty on some Lord's arm.

"I think I hear riders," Quistis said, dropping the act. "You should go."

Seifer could hear the distant sound of hooves on packed dirt and gravel and he patted Quistis on the arm. He was half surprised she didn't try to kill him for the overly familiar gesture, which Seifer took as a sign of progress. Twice now, he'd touched her without permission and hadn't had a threat made against his life. That was something.

He retreated into the bushes and crouched low, out of sight of the approaching caravan but with a clear view of the road. It wasn't long before he saw the first of the riders round the bend. Quistis stepped out to greet them, playing the part of the Damsel perfectly. Behind the riders, Erich Deling's gilded coach came to a stop, flanked by four guards on foot, all armed and dressed in mismatched bits of armor and chain mail, presumably taken off a scrap pile somewhere. The driver kept listing to one side as though having trouble staying awake. After a moment, Seifer saw why. The man lifted a jug to his mouth, took a long swallow, belched and slumped to the side again. The man was drunk.

"Well, well," one of the riders said to Quistis with a grin. "What do we have here?"

"My wagon has broken down," Quistis said, "and my escort has gone to find help, but he hasn't come back. Could I trouble you two gentlemen for some assistance?"

"With pleasure, Mi'lady," the second man said, leering as he climbed down from his horse.

The other man followed, appearing quite eager to be of help, and Seifer smiled to himself as he grasped the hilt of his blade, ready to spring into action the minute the two were distracted.

He watched as the two men inspected the wheel. To Seifer's complete astonishment, Quistis seized the first man's sword from the scabbard on his back. In an instant, she turned on the pair, all traces of the damsel gone from her face and posture. Both men looked at her, shocked and confused.

"That's not a toy, Mi'lady," the first man said nervously. "Give it back, now before you hurt yourself."

"If you want to live, you will bring me all the treasures in your master's coach," Quistis said. "Now."

The second man got to his feet, his hand on the dagger at his side. He started to laugh.

"You against all of us?" he asked, amused. "You've got some nerve, girl. "

"There are archers hiding in the trees all around us," she said. "All I have to do is give the signal. It's your choice whether you live or die."

Seifer swore to himself and got to his feet, drawing his own blade. This was not the plan. Not even close. He didn't like it, but now he had to play along, lest he look stupid in front of the people they were about to rob. She would hear about this later, that was for certain, but now as not the time to argue.

"Do as the lady says," Seifer said as he moved into view.

The second man, against reason, drew his own sword. He seemed undecided about whom to attack first. Quistis took advantage of his hesitation and swung her stolen blade. Seifer was dimly aware that she handled it like an expert as he watched the steel arc through the air and clash against the guard's blade. The man was unprepared for the attack and was spun sideways by the force of Quistis' blow. Her attack on him was so skilled and quick that the man could barely defend himself. In seconds, he dropped his blade and fell to his knees, begging for mercy.

Deling's men were slow to pick up on the trouble, but when they did, they advanced, coming at Seifer and Quistis with blades drawn. Seifer couldn't help but grin as the first of the guards swung on him, and he felt his blade connect with his opponent's. The impact reverberated up his arm, and he felt that sweet rush of adrenaline he so loved. This guard was only marginally better than the one Quistis had fought, but he was stupid enough not to yield. As Seifer slashed at him over and over, Quistis battled two on her own, a sword in one hand, her whip in the other.

Within minutes, all six of the guards had either surrendered or were dead. Though Seifer felt little sympathy for these men, this was not the way they did things. They didn't kill unless they had to or unless the mark had it coming. These men were just guards, and he doubted they had much to do with Deling's corruption, if anything at all. The driver they hadn't bothered with. He'd passed out with his head tipped back, mouth wide open and was presently snoring like a Grendel.

As far as Deling was concerned, it was true that he was the nephew or cousin or something of Seifer's sworn enemy, but the man was an oaf and a drunk, and he would not be missed. Erich Deling was an embarrassment to the entire Deling family, but Seifer saw his untimely end as a step toward ending Deling's reign. No doubt, Vinzer Deling would take Erich's death as a personal attack, as it was intended to be.

Before he could stop her, Quistis approached the gilded carriage, her steps sure and full of purpose. She tossed aside the sword she'd stolen and withdrew a dagger she'd kept hidden under her dress. No doubt, it was the same she'd pulled on him earlier and Seifer had an uneasy feeling as she flung the door of the carriage open and disappeared inside.

* * *

><p>Erich Deling was drunk. That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that he was drunk enough to start hallucinating. He'd only been vaguely aware that the carriage had stopped moving, and though he'd demanded to know the reason why, no one had answered him. Maybe he was dreaming.<p>

He took another swallow of mead as he stared at the figment of his imagination sitting beside him when before he'd been alone. She was just as lovely as he remembered, save the smear of blood on her cheek. He'd been told she was far more dangerous than she appeared, and now he believed it. There was a certain inhumanity in her eyes that he recognized. It reminded him of a stray cat on the hunt, toying with her prey before she killed it and ate it.

"Meow," he muttered and washed the thought down with more drink.

With shocking suddenness, she seized him by the collar and dragged him from the safety and luxury of the carriage. He landed hard, his face in the dirt. A hand caressed the back of his head and then seized his hair, lifting his face away from the gravel. He spat and tried to blink the dirt from his eyes.

"It'll be easier if you don't struggle," she said.

Something cold pressed against his throat and his eyes met hers. Cat's eyes. Feral and wild. Hyne, she was beautiful. He remembered the smoothness of her thigh beneath his palm when he'd touched her under the table at dinner the night before.

"That's my line," he said with a choked laugh.

His head rocked to the side as she struck him with the back of her hand. He bit down on his tongue and tasted blood mingled with the aftertaste of mead and dirt.

"My betrothed likes to play rough," he laughed, spitting out blood and earth. "That'll more than make up for the paltry dowry the King gave me for you. It's more fun when the girl fights back."

She struck him again and he nearly lost consciousness. This time, he spat out a tooth along with the blood.

"Quistis, what the hell are you doing?" a man's voice asked.

"He and I have some unfinished business that doesn't concern you," she said, sounding calm and cool.

Deling laughed again, struck by the absurdity of the situation. For a hallucination, it was awfully painful. If he didn't know better, he might be convinced all this was really happening. But that was absurd. The real Quistis was likely locked up in some dungeon by now for kidnapping the Princess. It didn't matter to him one bit whether he married her or not. He had the dowry, as disappointing as it was, it was still more than he'd expected. He could drink for months on what he'd been given.

"So what should I do with you," Quistis purred in his ear. "Cut your throat? Remove your manhood and leave you to bleed to death?"

Deling cringed involuntarily at the threat. He couldn't imagine a worse fate than that.

It was starting to dawn on him that maybe this wasn't his imagination working overtime. He could feel the edge of her blade cutting into the flesh of his throat, and his mouth throbbed where she'd knocked out his tooth. He was not a man easily given over to fear, but he was suddenly gripped by a kind of panic he'd never felt before. He started to struggle, wanting to be on his feet more than anything, but when he did, he felt the cold edge of the blade press deeper into his skin. The world began to spin and his stomach started to spin with it.

"Hyne, what do you want?" he moaned.

"I want an apology," she said.

"For what?"

"If you have to ask, then you don't deserve mercy," she said as she drew her blade across his throat.

A cold fire blazed across his neck. White hot pain blazed through his every nerve ending, from head to toe. He couldn't even scream. In disbelief, he looked up at her and saw not Quistis Trepe, but the angel of death herself.

* * *

><p>Seifer stood in shock as he watched Quistis cut Deling's throat. There was no remorse in her eyes as she wiped her blade clean and stood over the dying man, watching him. While they'd had no reason to let Deling live, he hadn't expected Quistis to be the one to do it. If anything, it had been his responsibility to finish Deling off, but it seemed Quistis had her reasons. What those reasons were, he was afraid to ask.<p>

On the ground, Deling twitched and rolled over, his hand clasping his throat. He let out a long, agony filled moan and flailed about like a fish out of water.

"Get up, you fool," Quistis snapped.

"You've killed me, you crazy bitch!" Deling moaned. "I'm bleeding to death!"

"I barely cut you," she said. "Now get up."

It was true. Now that Seifer had gotten over the initial shock, he could see that there really wasn't much blood on the hand that Deling held against his throat. Barely a trickle, really. Not enough to end the man's life, that was for sure.

Seifer felt a strange kind of relief at the knowledge that Quistis hadn't taken Deling's life. He didn't know why. It wasn't as if Seifer would have felt remorse if it had been him instead of Quistis. He would have done it without hesitation, though he much preferred to end a man's life in battle to taking out an unarmed, drunken lackwit who could barely understand what was going on.

When Deling didn't get up, Quistis hauled him to his feet. Deling swayed and tried to clutch at her with his free hand, but she held him off easily.

"Take off your clothes," she demanded.

Deling began to laugh.

"No woman's ever said that to me without having to pay her first," he said. "Maybe Caraway wasn't so wrong in tossing you in my lap. He knows my tastes."

"I said shut up and strip," Quistis said, her tone deadly.

She pressed the point of her blade into his groin and was rewarded with a panicked shriek more worthy of a girl than a man with a reputation like Erich Deling's. That was all it took to encourage him to strip down to his under clothes clumsily but with great haste. Quistis wasn't satisfied until he was standing naked in the road, trying in vain to cover his naughty bits with one hand and stop the bleeding at his throat with the other.

Seifer had no idea what Quistis was about to do, but he was incapable of stopping her. Maybe it was shock, maybe curiosity, but he suspected she had a worse fate for him in mind than death. While the scene was amusing, he was too stunned by her behavior to laugh.

"Unload my dowry," she said to Seifer. "I'll keep an eye on him."

Feeling shaky, he motioned for Fujin and Raijin to come out of hiding and in silence, they raided the carriage and loaded up their own. Selphie and Irvine were busy tying the three remaining guards to nearby trees while Emma covered them with her Blaster Edge.

It didn't take long to fix the wheel on their wagon and load Deling's worldly possessions into it. Quistis insisted they take all of his clothing as well. They left one jug of mead in the carriage, then Quistis forced Deling back into it at knife point. For good measure, she busted the handle on the carriage, effectively locking Deling inside.

Quistis woke the driver and slipped a piece of gold into his hand. He stared at it as if he'd never seen a gold coin before. Seifer doubted he had, at least, not up close.

"Lord Deling must return to Dollet at once," she said. "It's quite urgent that he get there as soon as possible."

"Yehsh, mi'lady," the driver slurred.

"Turn the carriage around and head straight back to Dollet," she said. "Do not stop, under any circumstances, even if Lord Deling demands it of you. King Caraway must see him at once. Do you understand?"

"Yehsh, mi'lady. I'll get..hic…him there."

They watched the driver attempt to turn the carriage around and Seifer wound up having to guide the horses because the driver was too drunk to navigate the turn. Seifer doubted very much that the driver would be able to stay on the road or that he'd even stay awake long enough to make it back to Dollet, but he supposed that didn't matter. Whoever found Erich Deling's carriage was in for a nasty surprise.

When Seifer was done with the drunken carriage driver, he decided it was time to talk to Quistis, wo stood off to the side with her back to them, motionless, her hands slack at her sides, staring into the forest in silence.

He found he couldn't yell at her for changing the mission plan on him, even though so much could have gone wrong. Hyne, she was frustrating. The more Seifer reacquainted himself with her, the less it seemed he knew her. Was the girl he'd known even a part of her anymore? Had Dollet truly stripped away everything that he'd loved about her as a boy, or was she still in there somewhere, hiding beneath that stoic and terrifying violence she seemed so very capable of?

"We're heading back," he said.

She nodded slowly, her eyes focused on something very far away. She didn't move to go back to the wagon, she just stood there, staring out into the distance. When she finally looked at him, there was a hint of fear in her eyes, a hint of uncertainty.

Seifer remembered then that Deling had called Quistis his betrothed. Was she the woman who had jilted Deling, or was he so drunk he'd mistaken her for someone else? Seifer wasn't sure, and he was afraid to ask.

"Was it worth it?" she asked, turning her eyes back to the forest.

"What?"

"Was his money worth the trouble?"

"We've seen more, we've seen less," Seifer admitted. "But, on the whole, not a bad take."

"What happens now?"

"We take a small cut each, give the rest of the gold to people who need it and trade the jewels for favors or silence," he said.

Quistis nodded, but she seemed distracted.

"For a minute there, I thought you'd really killed him," he said. "Until he started flopping around like a wounded seal."

"I almost did," she said softly.

Seifer didn't doubt that. Had Deling fought a little harder, she probably wouldn't have spared him.

"I'd hate to be the guy that has to let him out of there," Seifer said with a chuckle. "It's a long ride back to Dollet. He's drunk, locked in and there's no WC."

Quistis smiled a little at that. "He had it coming."

Seifer hesitated to ask the burning question, but he had to know.

"You were supposed to marry him."

He hadn't intended to, but it came out sounding like an accusation instead of a question. Mentally, he prepared for another round of Quistis Trepe's own personal brand of hostility, but she didn't respond at all.

"He was the reason you ran," Seifer said.

A slow nod was the only answer she gave him, her eyes never leaving the forest beyond.

"Why the hell would you send him back to Dollet?"

"I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

"Maybe I wanted to remind Caraway that he'll never command me," she said. "And that I'll thwart him every time he tries to decide my fate."

Once again, Seifer was stunned.

This time it was because she'd finally given him a straight and completely truthful answer.

* * *

><p>AN:

I want to appologize for the lateness of this post. I know it's months overdue, but I said I continue, and I still uphold that promise. So the story continues, hopefully much more regularly now that I have a reliable internet connection and a bit more time on my hands.

This chapter went through several revisions and a couple of complete re-writes because I couldn't get the characterization or tone quite right. In an early version, Quistis was so out of character, I didn't even recognize her. In the first draft, Quistis killed Deling in a pretty brutal way, but this revised version is a bit less graphic and it lets Quistis keep a bit of her humanity, which wasn't there when I first wrote the scene. Plus, there's the added bonus of Deling's arrival in Dollet and Caraway's reaction to it in a later chapter.

Thanks to all those who reviewed. I appreciate your comments, praise and support. And thank you for your patience.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

><p>As soon as the spoils were loaded, they split up. Irvine, Raijin and Rinoa piled into the cart containing the gold, Selphie and Fujin headed back with the jewels and mead, and Seifer and Quistis took the horses. Quistis didn't much like being separated from Rinoa, but if she trusted anyone in the group, she supposed it was Irvine. As for getting stuck with Seifer, Quistis wasn't keen on the idea, but she'd had a hard time finding a reason to disagree that made any sense, so she'd let it go.<p>

They headed north in silence. Seifer seemed to be as skilled a rider as Quistis, and for that she was grateful. She was just as grateful that the mounts were of quality Dolletian stock, horses bred for speed and endurance and she had to wonder if the pair were part of her dowry as well. It was unlikely they'd belonged to Deling, since they were very costly. While not exactly a rare breed, horses of this quality were only owned by those who could afford to pay the hefty price. The pair alone were probably worth a couple million Gil.

As they rode, Quistis contemplated the look she'd seen in Seifer's eyes when he'd thought she'd killed Deling. She didn't understand the shock she'd seen there. If the story of Robin Hood was to be believed, he had no qualms at all about killing. More than a few lords and ambassadors to one kingdom or another had fallen prey to his band of merry misfits on the road, and some had been killed. Why should he care if Erich Deling died at her hand? If truth be told, she had counted on one of them having to do the deed in the end. Her decision to leave him alive had been more surprising in hindsight.

Why hadn't she killed him? It would have been so easy, but she'd checked herself at the last moment. In that instant, with Deling's life in her hands, she'd thought of Rinoa and all her innocence. She thought of what it might be like for Rinoa to see her only friend in the world cut a man's throat without remorse or hesitation. For the rest, it might have been a day's work, but for Rinoa, who'd seen nothing of war or death, it might have been traumatic. Quistis had never been spared the sight of suffering or death, but Rinoa had, and in the end, she hadn't wanted to be the one to teach Rinoa about it. Fighting the guards was one thing. They'd drawn their blades against her. Deling had been unarmed and so drunk, he could barely stand. She'd spared Deling out of mercy for Rinoa.

Either way, it would serve as a lesson to Caraway. He could not and would not have any say in her life again. She'd spent much of her youth in his service. She'd been obedient to her master, but her life was her own. No one could change that now, and only death would take it away from her.

The air around them had grown cold, and the sky had turned a steely color that meant rain. As the wind kicked up, Quistis tried not to shiver in her saddle. The restriction of the corset was bad enough without riding, and to add a chill on top of it was nearly unbearable. Her ribs felt bruised and the constant motion made the skin beneath the corset feel chafed and raw. She would have to take the thing off, and soon. It was making her irritable and half mad with discomfort.

Soon, it began to rain. A light drizzle at first that quickly became a slushy mix of snow and rain that soaked her to the skin. Her hands were numb as she gripped the reigns and spurred her horse to move a little faster.

"How much further?" she asked, trying not to show Seifer that she was shivering with cold.

"We turn east in a few miles," he said. "But I think we may need to find shelter before we get there. Doesn't look like the rain's going to stop for a while. Damn cold out here."

Though Quistis was eager to be back at Selphie's camp, if the weather continued to deteriorate, they would die of hypothermia before they got much further.

"I know a spot we can get out of the rain for a while," he said. "Maybe another mile up or so, just off the trail."

Quistis thought she might freeze to death before they got there, and it felt like ages before they came upon a small inn set far enough back from the road that Quistis would not have known it was there if Seifer hadn't lead them there. While she didn't like the idea of a place as public as an inn, she would be grateful for the warmth of a fire and a chance to take off the corset.

Instead of going in the front, Seifer lead her to the back where a woman met them at the kitchen door. She was older and her dark hair was shot through with dramatic streaks of white, and she smiled brilliantly at Seifer as though he were a long lost son. She pulled him into a tight, motherly embrace, fawning over his appearance and sodden clothes, scolding him for being out in the foul weather.

"You're half frozen," she said. "Get inside and I'll find you some dry clothes."

"Giselle, I'd like you to meet my colleague, Marian," he said, inclining his head toward Quistis. "If you had something for her as well, I'd make it worth your trouble."

"No trouble at all," she insisted, looking Quistis over. "My, what a lovely girl you are! Even soaked to the bone, I'm sure you turn heads everywhere you go."

Quistis wasn't interested in turning any heads, but she thanked Giselle politely and followed her up the back stairs, Seifer close at her heels.

"I only have one room at the moment," Giselle said. "But it can sleep four, six in a pinch, so you'll have plenty of space to rest up."

"I'd take a closet at this point," Quistis said, shivering.

The room was large, but not large enough to sleep six, unless they slept on the floor or under the bed. In one corner was a partition meant to give some privacy, in the other a small wash basin with a stack of neatly folded towels. There was one window with milky lead glass that made the woods beyond difficult to see, but at least there was a way out should it be needed.

Giselle left them alone with a promise to return shortly with dry clothing, so Quistis kicked off her shoes and found a towel to dry her hair. On the other side of the room, Seifer had stripped everything off but his pants, not bothering with the partition and laid his shirt and jacket over a small rack to dry.

While his back was turned, she watched the flex of his muscles and the broad, powerful set of his shoulders. It reminded her of her days in the barracks, when she was surrounded by her comrades, she the lone woman in the battalion. She used to watch the young men around her in various states of undress, half in awe, half in admiration, but never in lust. There was something beautiful about men in top form, something beautiful about the way lean muscle rippled under skin as they moved, and Quistis had envied them. Her own strength was formidable, but it would never be strength of brute force, but of speed and skill. She'd won battles because of her quickness with a blade and her instinctual ability to think ahead of her opponent, not because she was the strongest. She envied men that power, and she found herself envying Seifer his.

For the first time in her life, there was something else mingled in with her admiration. Even she couldn't deny that what she felt was desire. In all those years of sharing the barracks with handsome young men, it had never crossed her mind. Not once. The boys she'd grown up with, had trained with, and fought with, not one of them had made her wonder. Those boys had grown into strong and incredible men, but they were nothing more than brothers to her. Even Squall and Zell, her most trusted comrades, had never made her wonder what it would be like to be folded against their chests in a tender lover's embrace, safe and protected.

It was unsettling that Seifer made her want to know. He was a man that she barely knew, a man she didn't trust. She didn't need protection from anything. She could protect herself.

He turned and caught her staring and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. As much as she wanted to look away, she found she couldn't. He cocked an eyebrow and his mouth curved into a slow teasing smile. His mouth opened to comment, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

It was Giselle, returning as promised with a bundle of clean, dry clothing and extra linens. Quistis accepted the bundle with gratitude and Seifer pressed a couple of silver coins into the woman's palm.

"Would you send up a meal and a flask of fire water as well?" Seifer asked.

"I have mutton and beef stew on the stove," Giselle said. "But I could make a ham if you'd prefer."

"Don't go to the trouble," Seifer said. "The stew will be fine."

"At once, child," she said.

Giselle's smile at Seifer was radiant, and Quistis had to wonder how they knew one another. She seemed more than accommodating, almost inappropriately so. Quistis had a feeling that if Seifer had asked to commandeer the inn for his own purposes, Giselle would have gladly evicted everyone from their rooms without question.

After the woman had taken her leave, Quistis realized that she probably could have asked for her assistance in unlacing the corset. No doubt, Seifer would be willing, but Quistis would have preferred he keep his distance. She sorted through the bundle, tossing the items meant for Seifer toward him, and then held up the dress Giselle had provided for her. It was a simple gray shift made of wool, and of a modest cut. Quistis was glad for it. It would require no corset and it covered far more than it revealed.

Her cheeks blazed again as she lifted the gown over her head and cast it aside. She could feel Seifer's eyes on her, though she refused to look at him. Without having to ask, he stepped behind her and began to undo the laces at her back. Slowly and surely, the corset began to loosen and Quistis could breathe again. She vowed it would be the last time she ever wore one, no matter the situation.

So great was her relief that it took her a moment to realize that he was done and that Seifer's hands were on her shoulders. In spite of the chill they'd both caught out in the storm, his hands were warm against her skin. She gave an involuntary shudder and he rubbed her upper arms briskly in attempt to bring heat back to her icy flesh.

"Get changed," he said.

His tone was short and abrupt, as though he was impatient with her for just standing there. She obeyed without comment, seeking refuge behind the partition. She nearly ripped the corset off and tossed it aside, along with the sodden petticoat. She glanced down at herself and saw marks where it had cut into her skin and made it raw. There were bruises, too, from the whalebone, and possibly from the fighting earlier. She winced as her fingers found a tender spot on her ribcage and knew that she'd been feeling it for days.

The dress was simple and the wool scratchy, but it was warm. She straightened the skirt and tied the narrow sash at her waist, then hugged the fabric against her upper body, feeling a little of the warmth coming back to her skin.

When she emerged from behind the partition, Seifer was already dressed in warm woolen breeches and a linen tunic. His hair was already drying and the color was coming back to his cheeks. Quistis envied him that. Though warmer now, she was still chilled to the bone.

She sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of warm woolen socks and was surprised when Seifer draped a blanket around her shoulders. She wrapped it around herself, giving him no more than a nod of thanks. After being caught staring, she didn't want to look him in the eye. She was in no mood to face his teasing and forward commentary.

The food arrived and she gratefully ate the stew. It didn't matter that it was bland and thin; it was warm and that was good enough for her. As for the firewater, she reluctantly took a few sips, not wishing to be drunk in Seifer's presence, but she was still in need of warmth and the firewater chased away the chill quicker than anything else.

"We'll wait out the storm and be on our way as soon as it breaks," Seifer informed her once they were done eating. He glanced toward the dark window. "Doesn't look like that will be for a while, though. Why don't you get some rest? I'll take first watch."

It was good to know that even though the innkeeper seemed to have Seifer's trust, he was still cautious enough to see the need for vigilance. Though Quistis hadn't fully given him her trust, she had no fear that he would let harm come to her while she slept. He was too insistent that she meant something to him for her to believe he would double cross her. That much she knew.

* * *

><p>Twenty miles away, Rinoa sat in the back of a wagon, hidden behind bales of hay, Irvine beside her. The rain had soaked through her dress and she was cold, but she didn't care. This, by far, was the most thrilling day she'd ever had. She'd taken part in what amounted to robbery, stealing the dowry her father had given Erich Deling as compensation for misplacing the bride, and now she was going to help distribute their ill-gotten wealth to the needy citizens of a small village in eastern Galbadia.<p>

It was a shame Quistis couldn't be here to experience it, but it wasn't part of the plan. Rinoa could only hope that Quistis and Seifer made it safely back to camp. She felt funny about being separated, but she knew, without a doubt, that she could trust these new friends of hers. They would keep her safe. She was sure of it.

The wagon was being driven by Raijin, who was dressed in a monk's robes. Irvine smiled over at her, reassuring yet impish as he tipped his hat down a little further to ward off the rain.

"This is exciting," she couldn't help but say. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Bet it's a lot more fun than embroidery," he admitted.

"You have no idea."

"Probably more fun than banquet."

"The food's better at banquet…but otherwise, it's usually quite dull."

"Are you insulting my cooking?"

"What? No, of course not!" Rinoa said. "It's just, I never thought to eat….It was quite delicious…"

Irvine laughed and patted her arm.

"Relax. I'm just teasing you."

It was hard to get used to people teasing her. Back at the castle, no one joked with her because they were all too afraid it might upset her. Now she realized now how dull life had been without some good natured ribbing every now and then. She found she much preferred it to the backhanded compliments and talking behind each other's back that was common practice at court.

"I hear a Robin calling, ya know?" Raijin called as he brought the wagon to a stop.

It was the sign that the coast was clear and they were free to distribute their bounty. Irvine had agreed that it was a stupid signal, but Raijin had come up with it on his own and was rather proud of it. It was easier to let him have his way, Irvine said, than hurt his feelings. Rinoa had already figured out that Raijin was none too bright, but he was all heart and he tried hard to be useful. She wouldn't have wanted his feelings hurt either.

Excited, Rinoa got to her feet clutching a bag of coins and looked out at the people who'd gathered along the road in curiosity. Their faces were gray, dirty and haggard, their hair matted and their clothes frayed and grimy, and Rinoa felt a pang of guilt and sympathy for these people. The amount of food wasted at banquet would feed this entire town, she realized, and she felt guilty. Really guilty.

Her eyes fell on a girl of about eight or so, who stood next to her mother. The girl's face was hollow, and her blue eyes were too large for her face. With one too-skinny arm, she reached for her mother's hand. There was something so heartbreaking about this child that Rinoa felt tears begin to burn behind her eyes. She wondered when this child had last eaten a decent meal. Then, she wondered if this was the price of her velvet gowns and jewelry and delicious food.

It made her sick to think that for her whole life, she'd enjoyed the best of everything, never wanting for food or clothing, never truly going without like these people did.

It wasn't fair.

With tears and rain streaming down her face, she took the first handful of coins from the bag and tossed them into the crowd. At first, it seemed they didn't understand. Then, they realized what was happening and there were shouts of joy as people began to scramble for the coins. One by one, the coins were plucked from the puddles and held up to the light as the people's expressions changed to wonder and then happiness.

"Thank you miss, thank you!"

"Bless you!"

She tossed the coins a handful at a time, until there was just one left.

The little girl had hung back from the frenzy, watching Rinoa with those big, sad eyes and Rinoa knew what she had to do. She leaned over the edge of the wagon and beckoned to the girl, smiling kindly through her tears.

Slowly, the little girl stepped forward, her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. She approached a step at a time, as though afraid to come too close.

"It's okay," Rinoa said. "Hold out your hand, sweetie."

The little girl obeyed and Rinoa deposited the remaining coin into the girl's outstretched palm. The girl burst into tears as her fingers closed around it and she clutched her fist to her chest.

"Thank you," the girl whispered.

"It's going to get better," Rinoa told her. "I promise."

"I thought Robin Hood was a boy," the girl said with a sniffle.

"You're right. He is a boy," Rinoa said.

"Is he here?"

"He sure is," Rinoa said, pointing to Irvine, who was distributing the last of his Gil on the other side of the wagon.

The girl's big eyes grew excited as she took in Irvine's cowboy hat and his long, strawberry colored ponytail. She looked doubtful for a moment but then seemed to decide she believed it.

"Are you Maid Marian?"

Rinoa laughed and shook her head.

"My name is Emma," Rinoa said. "But I'll tell you a secret: Maid Marian my very best friend in the whole world."

"Really?"

"Really."

"My name's Beka."

"Pleased to meet you, Beka," Rinoa said.

"Emma, time to go," Irvine called.

"Will you ever come back?" Beka asked.

"I don't know," Rinoa said honestly. "Maybe some day."

Rinoa didn't want to leave yet, but the gold was gone and there was no sense in sticking around. Even Rinoa knew it wasn't wise to linger. She said goodbye to Beka and waved to the people as they headed out of town. Though Rinoa was smiling, on the inside, she was screaming.

None of this was right. How could there be such poverty in such a prosperous kingdom as Dollet. How could her father allow this to happen? The more she saw, the angrier she got and the more she knew she had to do something about it. The question was, what? She had no life experience outside of Dollet, which had prepared her for nothing except gossip, feasting and fashion. What could she do to fix any of this? She'd figured out that it was bad, but she'd had no idea that it was this bad.

"Gil for your thoughts?" Irvine asked as he took a seat on the wet hay beside her.

Rinoa wiped her eyes and shrugged. She couldn't even articulate her thoughts.

Irvine patted her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"It's not your fault, you know," Irvine said.

"I feel like it is," Rinoa said. "Do you know how much I spent a month on gowns? I never even gave it a thought. Not once."

"This is bigger than a few dresses," Irvine said.

"It's still part of the problem, isn't it?" she asked. "So much goes to waste at court, Irvine. You have no idea how much. Who pays for all that? They do. They suffer while the court lives it up. And I never even really knew."

They were her people, weren't they? Someone in her position should be looking out for her people, not starving them to pay for sixteen course meals and tournaments. Her father should be protecting them, not taking them for everything they had.

"If you'd known, is there really anything you could have done about it?"

"I don't know, but I would have tried," Rinoa said.

"So now you know," Irvine said. "Question is, what are you going to do about it?"

* * *

><p>Squall and Zell had been heading south for a good part of the night, and most of the day. The weather was turning ugly, and the path more treacherous by the mile. Squall knew that they would soon have to stop and seek shelter, but he didn't want to risk losing ground if they didn't have to. The longer Quistis went without being found, the less likely they would be found. He wanted to find her before Caraway did. The Elite were being hunted now. The sooner they could be on their way, the better.<p>

"Maybe we should just go to Esthar and hope they have the same idea," Zell said. "If I know Quistis, that's her plan. If we leave now, we might catch up with her sooner or later."

The plan had some validity, since all they'd done so far was ride around, getting nowhere, but Squall wasn't convinced that Quistis was headed to Esthar just yet. Caraway had likely thought of that and had sent a substantial force to block her retreat. No, Squall figured Quistis would wait it out. He knew because it was what he would do.

"Squall? Are you even listening to me?"

"…."

"What if she decided not to go to Esthar at all?" Zell continued. "If she couldn't go to Esthar, where else would she go, do you think? Not a lot of places to hide, and I don't think Rinoa would make it as a gypsy. Quistis definitely, but not Rinoa."

Squall closed his eyes and repressed the urge to scream at Zell to shut up. Zell was the closest thing besides Quistis to a friend, he could be extremely irritating at times. Especially when he wouldn't stop talking.

"I guess Centra would be a good place to disappear," Zell said, "but there's not much there. I've heard you can't even grow stuff there because the soil's barren."

"Why would Quistis go to Centra?" Squall asked, annoyed that he'd been forced to speak. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Why not?"

"Because the man she ran away from lives on Centra," Squall said. "She wouldn't be stupid enough to risk being caught in the same country as Deling."

"What better place to hide out than the place you're not supposed to be?"

"By that logic, we should assume she might even have gone back to Dollet."

"Why would she do that?"

"I was being…never mind."

There was no point in explaining sarcasm or irony to Zell. It would be like trying to teach a chocobo to read. Zell was capable of making a sarcastic comment or two of his own, but he seldom got it when it came from others.

Up ahead was a small sign pointing down a narrow trail. Squall had to squint to read the single word on it.

"Let's get off the road for a while," he said, inclining his head toward the sign.

"Think they have food?" Zell asked. "I could use a nap. I wonder if they have those beds with the feather blankets. Those are nice. Better yet, I wonder if they have those rooms that come with a girl."

Squall rolled his eyes and spurred his horse down the path toward the inn. He hoped they had two rooms. He could use a break from Zell's constant talking, even if it was for a few hours.

The rain had turned to sleet by the time they reached the front door. Squall climbed down from his saddle and lead Griever to the small stable to the right. There were only a couple of horses already stabled there. Both had the look of Dolletian stock and Squall had to pause for a moment to examine them. He didn't want to chance staying at the same inn as those who were looking for him.

Dolletian horses weren't exclusive to the army. Many well to do people at court prided themselves on owning them, but the Dolletian army used them exclusively. The saddles on these horses were not the style of the army, but that didn't mean their owners weren't a threat. He would have to be sure to keep Zell's mouth in check long enough to secure a room.

"I got this weird feeling like something big's gonna happen," Zell said. "Like, something huge. I don't know what, but something's coming."

Squall opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but he immediately closed it because he couldn't deny that he felt it too. He had a nagging feeling that everything he knew was about to change, that everything he'd believed would be proved wrong. Maybe it was just that they had gone rogue and were now being hunted. Perhaps that was the cause of his anxiety, but deep down, he knew there was another explanation. He just didn't know what it was yet.

Not that he'd tell Zell any of this. Zell would want to debate what it could be at length and Squall didn't have the patience for that, so he let the comment go without saying anything.

Squall put his hand on the door and paused, turning to Zell.

"You are forbidden to speak," Squall told him. "Not a word until we're in our room. Understand?"

"What, do you think, I'm going to say something I shouldn't?" Zell asked, offended.

"Yes. I do," Squall said. "Now, for god's sake, keep your mouth shut."

It was warm inside, but no so crowded. There were four men playing what looked like a mixture of triad and a drinking game in one corner, an older couple not speaking to one another in the other, and a bored looking tavern wench clearing an abandoned table. Squall could smell something cooking and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't realized it, but the last time he'd eaten a full meal was at banquet with Rinoa.

An older woman approached them with a smile and two glasses of firewater that Squall hadn't had a chance to order.

"You two look half frozen," she said, handing each a glass. "Drink those down and you'll be warm soon enough. On the house."

Squall thanked her and they both swallowed down the drink. Squall could feel the firewater go to work immediately, though it didn't shake off his chill entirely.

"We need a room," Squall said. "If you have one."

"You boys are in luck," she said, "I just had one open up, but it's not ready yet. If you're willing to wait and you have Gil, it's all yours."

"Good enough," Squall said. "We'll take it."

* * *

><p>Seifer sat by the window in half darkness, listening to the sound of Quistis breathing. Every now and then, he heard her murmur under her breath, but he couldn't make out what she said. Once, he thought he heard her say his name. She grew increasingly restless, and her breathing became erratic. Seifer was torn between waking her and leaving her alone. No doubt, she wouldn't appreciate his intervention and he'd wind up with her knife against his throat. Again.<p>

Half a dozen times, he almost got up to wake her anyway, but he stayed where he was, watching the last of the light fade from the day. The rain had turned to sleet, then snow and back again, and it looked like there was more on the way. As much as Seifer would rather be back in Selphie's cabin, they never would have made it in the storm. They would have had to abandon the horses and walk the remaining thirty miles because the rocky path through the forest would have been glazed in ice and far too treacherous to navigate on horseback. It would have been just as dangerous on foot, and much slower going. Worse still, if they'd stayed on the road, there was nowhere to seek shelter between the inn and the canyon.

He was grateful for the warmth of the room, but he was weary. His eyelids grew heavy and he was about to drift off in his chair when Quistis let out a strangled cry and sat bolt upright. Her arms flailed at the blankets around her as though she were fighting something he couldn't see.

"No, no, no, noooo!" she cried.

Against all logic, Seifer found himself at her side, restraining her hands. He could feel her anguish and her fear and he couldn't help but wonder what she dreamed that made her wake in such a state.

"I can't breathe," she said. "Seifer, where are you?"

"Right here," he said. "I'm right here."

"They're killing everyone."

He knew then that she was still asleep and dreaming of that long ago night in Balamb. Perhaps she had forgotten all about it while awake, but it was still very real in her subconscious. For Seifer, that night was nothing less than a nightmare, but he remembered it all with absolute clarity. It wasn't something easily forgotten, and he'd promised himself, for the memory of those that had been lost, that he would never, ever forget. He would never forget the sight of Garden in flames or the faces of the dead. He would not forget how he'd felt when he'd realized that Quistis was not among those that had escaped, and how the others were certain that she had perished in the disaster.

The Guardian Forces should have saved them, but not a single one had come when called. Seifer had never been able to come up with a good reason why their protectors had been absent at the time of their greatest need, and not one of the Guardians had been able to give him a straight answer. The only thing they even agreed on was that there was some sort of interference that night. Something had blocked them and prevented them from manifesting, but the nature of that something was unknown.

Since then, not one of the remaining SeeDs had wanted to put all their faith in the power of the Guardians. Whatever had happened could happen again, and the entities that had been thought infallible were vulnerable to some external force no one could explain.

"It's burning," Quistis murmured.

A moment later, she gave another start and her eyes went wide. She scooted away from him, bunching herself back against the headboard, staring at him with a mixture of loathing and terror.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"You were having a nightmare," Seifer said. "A bad one, from the sound of it."

Quistis let out a breath and put her hands to her face. Seifer could only give her the courtesy of collecting herself, though he badly wanted to offer some kind of comfort. He knew she wouldn't accept it, so he kept his distance out of respect for her and her trusty dagger.

"That's twice in one day," Seifer said.

"Your point?"

"Just seems unusual to me."

"It's just a dream," she said. "How long was I asleep?"

"Not long enough," he said. "An hour, maybe."

She let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. Even in the darkness, he could see she was weary, and he wondered how often she woke from her night terrors and how much rest she actually got. Were these dreams because of him? Had her subconscious kicked into high gear because on some level, she remembered him, or had she been plagued by nightmares before she'd left Dollet?

"I'll take the watch," she said. "Get some rest."

"You need it more than I do."

"I'll survive."

Seifer watched her for a moment, then rubbed his tired eyes. He was exhausted, but not willing to sleep just yet. He wanted to keep an eye on her. He didn't trust that she wouldn't take off while he slept. If he were to lose her now, he would spend the rest of his days searching, not as he had before, when he was following gut instincts, but with renewed obsessive purpose until he found her again.

He moved to the other side of the bed and sat beside her, taking care to leave enough room between them that she wouldn't take flight to the chair across the room. He half expected it anyway. When she stayed where she was and reached for the flask of firewater, Seifer relaxed.

"So how did you become an Elite?" he asked after a lengthy silence. "Dollet's not known for giving women a chance to be all they can be. So how did you wind up one of maybe two?"

Quistis didn't answer immediately. Instead she sat there, drinking and silent so long that Seifer thought she wasn't going to. Then she sighed, drew her knees up to her chest and began to talk.

"I was ten," she said. "Working in the kitchen at the castle. It was my job to tend the hens, collect eggs and kill the ones the cook selected for dinner. She was squeamish about doing it herself, and I didn't really have a problem with it, so she always made me kill and pluck them. One day, I'd gone out to do just that when the castle was attacked by a group of rebels dressed as palace servants. They were organized, but not very smart. I was standing there next to the hen house when one of them cornered me, telling me I reminded him of his woman back home."

Her voice was bitter as she said this, and Seifer had to wonder what it had to do with the Elite. Inwardly, he cringed, knowing where a story like this usually wound up. He'd heard it too many times to think any different. She paused for a moment as though getting her bearings, then continued in an indifferent and detached tone.

"I tried to get away, but he grabbed me, threw me to the ground and kicked me. What happened after is a blur, but I'm told I grabbed the axe I used to kill the chickens and buried it in the man's skull before he could do anything else to me. His friends came to his aid, two of them, I think. I killed them, too. They tell me I broke one man's neck, cut the other's throat. Next thing I knew, I was in the King's chambers, my kitchen clothes and my face smeared with blood, and the King himself was thanking me for my bravery and loyalty to the Kingdom and it's King. He told me he liked my spirit and reassigned me to his army. I wasn't given the option of declining. Not really."

Seifer suspected there was more to the story, so he waited without question while she gathered her thoughts. He was glad she had fought back. He would have expected no less of a SeeD.

"So I trained. In some ways, it was better than working in the kitchen. The food was better, the quarters nicer. I had a bit more freedom. Made a few friends. But in some ways it was worse. Far worse. I was expected to kill people who had done nothing to me personally, to kill and not feel anything and move on to the next. They thought, because I had killed my attackers so brutally that I could kill all of them that way. I had no choice but to live up to it. The alternative was unthinkable."

"What alternative?"

"It was kill the way Caraway wanted me to or be his court concubine. A plaything for him to use up and discard once he'd broken me and there was nothing left for me but death. As it was, I wasn't exactly safe from something like it among my comrades…"

Her voice was almost a whisper, but Seifer had no trouble making out her expression in the weak light. It was somewhere between deep rage and bitter grief, and his heart began to pound as he realized what she was telling him was something he already feared was true. He'd felt her pain and her rage, hadn't he? He'd sensed her distress from afar.

"So it's true, then," he said.

"It only happened to once," she said and took a long swallow of the firewater. "I was twelve, almost thirteen. There were four of them and I had no weapons to defend myself, only my fists and my wits. I fought, and lost…."

She paused to collect herself. There were no tears and no emotion on her face, but Seifer knew that she was struggling with this. It was ripping her apart in the telling, giving her a thousand remembered reasons to keep running.

"A friend found me semi-conscious on the floor of the bathhouse. He says I must have put up one hell of a fight. I can't remember if that's true or not. He got me cleaned up, dressed me and put me to bed. I was a disaster for a long time after that. Rage was the only thing I could feel. I wanted them to pay for what they'd done. Eventually, they did."

Seifer felt like he couldn't breathe. He took her hand in his, not to comfort her, but because he was the one who needed it. This was shredding his soul to hear, and to hear it put so matter of fact and completely devoid of emotion was harder to take than if she'd broken down and cried. It made him want to take her into his arms and beg her for forgiveness for not having been there to protect her from it.

"The men responsible...I killed them. One by one, I took my revenge in the most violent and humiliating ways I could think of. I'll spare you the details. I'm not proud of what I did, but I don't regret it either. After that, no one ever dared even think of touching me again. I made sure they all knew the consequences, and most of them minded themselves around the girls from then on. They were too afraid of retribution to act out of line, too afraid of crossing me to do anything to provoke my wrath. When they did, I made sure they paid. Some of them paid with their lives.

"At some point, fear turned to respect. Their respect earned me rank and seniority. Without knowing it, I became exactly what Caraway wanted me to be. A perfect killer. I was good at it. No one ever saw me coming. I killed and destroyed. Burned villages to the ground. Assassinated Kings. I could kill you right now, and you wouldn't see it coming and you wouldn't be able to stop me. And I hate that about myself. I hate what he made me…"

This time, the urge to hold onto her won out over common sense. She'd just told him how easily she could kill him, yet he ignored all that and wrapped her in a tight embrace, not caring about what she could do to him if she chose to. Damn all that. To hell with what she'd done and what she could do.

She protested at first, fighting his embrace, but then Seifer swore he could feel her relief as his arms tightened around her. With a sigh, she dropped her cheek against his shoulder, leaning into him as her arms returned the embrace. He could feel her breath against his neck.

"Don't kill me," he muttered into her hair.

"If I wanted to, I would have done it already."

In spite of everything, Seifer laughed because it was true. If she'd wanted to kill him, he would have been dead the very first time he'd stepped into her personal space.

"I've never talked about it. Not really. I don't like to think about it, much less what I did because of it."

Seifer loved her more because of it. Because she'd fought back and adapted to the circumstances, because she had made the best of a bad situation and turned it around in her favor. She'd survived and become stronger than even he could have imagined. A part of him even liked knowing that she was dangerous and that she would never go down without a fight.

"Is your friend still alive?" he asked as he let her go, thinking he'd like to thank the guy for taking care of her when she couldn't take care of herself.

"Yes," she said simply.

"He sounds like a good man."

"He is."

Seifer felt a hint of jealousy flare up inside him. He wondered if there were any romantic feelings between them, but didn't want to know the answer, so he left it alone. He knew his jealousy would seem irrational to her, anyway. Until she remembered, he would have to keep things like that to himself so as not to seem out of line.

Part of him just wanted to spill his guts and tell her the whole story, but she had to remember on her own. It was the only way to keep her with him, and he couldn't afford to lose her now.

* * *

><p>Quistis couldn't believe she'd told Seifer so much about her past and she blamed the firewater. These were things she'd never talked about with anyone. Not even Squall, who had been the one to find her in the bathroom that day. She tried not to even think about it, and most of the time succeeded in forgetting, but now that it had come out, her mind drifted back to those days, to the fear and rage and pain she'd felt. And in all that, Squall had been the one thing that had kept her from breaking into a thousand pieces.<p>

She couldn't help but remember how detached yet tender Squall had been as he'd sat with her on the bathhouse floor, holding her broken and battered body upright under the warm water while his clothes were soaked through. She hadn't done a thing to help him as he washed her face and hair, but she'd watched for any sign that he too might take advantage of her. His expression remained passive and mostly blank, save the occasional hint of sympathy in his eyes. His hands had never strayed where they shouldn't.

He hadn't asked questions. He hadn't said much at all, really, but she was grateful that it had been him and not someone else. She'd never forgotten his kindness, though neither had ever mentioned it after that day. Nor had he ever mentioned her vengeance that followed or even acknowledged it beyond a knowing look and a nod after it was done.

She'd never been able to prove it, but she knew that it had been Caraway that had set those men on her in the first place. And it had been her own reaction to what had happened that made him decide she belonged in the Elite. It had been a test, to see what she was really made of. To see how far he could push before he broke her. Though there was never another time where she'd been assaulted by her own comrades, he had pushed her to the limit in her training. She was given tougher trials and adversaries than the others, longer hours spent in training, more difficult tasks than anyone else. He'd starved her till she was rail thin and gaunt, then made her fight for a mealy piece of bread. Yet she'd prospered. The harder it was for her, the better she became, the harder she fought.

In the end, the joke had been on him. He'd never broken her. Not one tear had been shed for her hardship. Not one time did she give up or say it was too much. He hadn't broken her, and he never would.

"Caraway or no, the world knows what the Elite are," Seifer said. "I might be cocky about it, but I damn well know I wouldn't stand a chance if they ever caught up with me. Considering the Elite were under your command for a time tells me just how good you really are. And by good, I mean scary as hell."

"I never wanted to be what you call good," she said. "I don't know what I wanted, but I know it wasn't that."

She heard Seifer sigh, and he shifted slightly so that he could look into her face.

"In spite of everything, he gave you something you could use, Quistis," he said seriously. "Wouldn't it be interesting to take what he gave you and use it against him?"

It sounded like a challenge. Quistis found herself pondering the question and what he was really asking. She had already agreed to help him as long as it was mutually beneficial and as long as safety was not a concern, but there was more in that question than just mutual benefit.

"What is it that you're after?" she asked. "I know you have this whole helping the poor thing going on, but there must be more to it than that."

"You're right," he agreed. "There is."

"So what's the point?"

"It's more than just feeding the poor. It's more than just an entertaining way to say _fuck you _to the establishment. It's about…taking back what belongs to the people, taking back what they stole from us, even if it's just a little at a time. And some day, maybe some day soon, it will be larger than that. It will be about rising up against them, en masse in cities across the world. It won't be about fear anymore, it will be about freedom. Freedom from hunger. Freedom from excessive taxes. Freedom to change one's station in life. Freedom to do and say whatever we please and not fear retribution."

Quistis noted the passion in his voice when he spoke about it. He really and truly believed what he was saying, and she was reminded of Rinoa's comments at dinner when the men had talked of Robin Hood. Rinoa had talked of freedom, too, and a desire to help the needy. At the time, her words had seemed naïve and silly, but hearing Seifer expand on the idea made her wonder if she'd misjudged Rinoa's understanding of the world.

The downside of all this was that these freedoms Seifer spoke of would come at a great cost. Many would die in the process, and in the end their efforts may prove ineffective and futile at best. The rich would continue to rule, the poor would continue to starve, soldiers would continue to die for causes they didn't believe in.

"I suppose I understand where you're coming from," Quistis said. "But what do you get out of it, in the end? What do you hope to achieve once it's all said and done?"

"Well, I was hoping to die a legend, but if that doesn't work out, I'd like to go home and try to rebuild Garden," he said. "Maybe start over and live out the rest of my years in peace with a view of the mountains and the scent of salt water on the breeze."

Quistis smiled a little to herself. It was a simpler dream than she'd expected, and one that she would not have guessed Seifer might have desired.

"Your future sounds nice," she admitted. "I just don't know if it's possible to change the way things are."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"There will always be men like Caraway and Deling," Quistis said. "Men ruthless enough to take what they want and destroy anyone who defies them. You might bring them to ruin, and in turn pave the way for men just like them. Or worse."

"It might," Seifer agreed. "But you don't know how ruthless I can be when I want something."

"Ruthlessness and philanthropy don't usually go hand in hand," Quistis said. "Power corrupts even the best of men."

"I'm not the best of men," Seifer said. "If you believe the rumors, I'm ranked right up there with you on the list of people going straight to hell. And it's not about philanthropy, it's about revenge."

"There's a world of difference between you and me," Quistis said.

"There's not that much difference," Seifer countered. "We both left a trail of bodies in our wake. We're both feared and hated by our enemies. The only difference is which side of the castle wall you stand on."

He had a point, but she refused to concede it. He fought for what he believed in. Quistis couldn't even pretend that much was true for herself.

"Fear is a powerful motivator, Seifer," Quistis said. "You want the people to rise up, but they won't while they still fear their leaders. The people love you because you give them money. Do you think they'd follow you if all that stopped?"

"Hope is even more powerful than fear," Seifer said. "Fear cripples men and strips them of their courage. Hope, on the other hand empowers men to go further and fight harder because there's something to fight for. Some will take my gold and never have the courage to raise a sword, but others will feel unsatisfied and want more for themselves and their families than a life of fear and poverty. There's talk already of a rebellion, Quistis. If you go to any market or tavern in any town, you can hear it. You can feel things coming to a boiling point. It's there, and it's getting stronger. All because a few stolen trinkets have given men hope."

Hope. It was a nice thought, but hope could be just as dangerous as fear. It fed the illusion of better things. It led people to do impulsive and desperate things, and in Quistis' experience, it only lead to heartbreak. In this world, there was no room for hope.

"Rebellion," Quistis said. "It's easy to talk about, but I've seen rebels in my time. Most of them wound up dead because they didn't know what they were doing. They fought and died for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Seifer insisted. "Dying for something you believe in is a hell of a lot more respectable than fighting because you're told to."

"You think I had another option?" Quistis asked, angry.

"I'm not saying that," he said.

"Then what are you saying?"

"Well, if you're as good as you are without really caring about anything, how deadly would you be if you actually cared? If you were fighting for something that mattered to you, I bet you'd rain some hell down on this world like no one's ever seen before or die trying," he said. "And unless you give a damn about something, there's precious little in this world worth living for."

What did Quistis care about? She wracked her brain trying to think of something that would matter enough to fight for. Squall, Zell and Rinoa, maybe. But she knew, deep down, if they were a lost cause, she'd likely abandon them if it meant she'd live to fight another day. In Seifer's eyes, that would make her a coward. In her own, it was simply pragmatic. There was no use in fighting for something that couldn't be saved. One had to pick their battles or die a fool.

"Why fight this fight?" Quistis asked. "You can't win. Not without a skilled army and the support of thousands. Why don't you just go home? Rebuild your Garden and live the way you want to live?"

"Balamb is still under Dollet rule."

"So take it back. You and your rebels band together and take it back."

"It's not that easy," he said. "I started this. I have to finish it, one way or another."

"Maybe it would have been easier to just adapt," Quistis said. "To move on instead of hanging onto something that you can never get back. I mean, how many of you are there left? A dozen? Maybe two? And of those, how many would actually be willing to go back to the old ways?"

Seifer shrugged. "The ones that remember will. And the things in life that are actually worth doing are always the hardest."

"I don't want to discourage you, but I don't think you can pull this off," Quistis said. "What you want, it's too much and you have too little to work with. What will happen if your plan fails?"

"Then it fails. I'd rather take a million to one chance and lose than not do anything at all," he said. "At least I'll die knowing we tried."

* * *

><p>AN:

Too short, you say? Here's 9000 words vs. last chapter's 7500. Ha. And this is after I cut several paragraphs out to move things along. So there.

It isn't quite the moral discussion one reader asked for, but it's close. I think Seifer's a bit out of character in a way, but I also believe that he'd be the kind that would stick to his guns if he believed in something.

A BIG thanks to those that reviewed and added this story to your favorites. Lots of people are reading, that much I know. Go ahead, put your two cents in if you haven't already. I want to hear from you.


End file.
